


Unbroken

by Olthaen



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Beleriand, Doriath, First Age, Multi, Nargothrond, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 84,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3658002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olthaen/pseuds/Olthaen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beleriand stands upon the verge of strife.<br/>After his home was razed, an elf finds himself entrusted with a secret that could destroy his family. Far away, another elf-maiden awoke after a massacre, challenged to overcome her fear and find herself.<br/>Set across the years of the First Age, the tale entwines the threads of courage, friendship and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Far as I can, I've tried to stick to the historical signposts of the the First Age. So do forgive the times that I might have strayed too far.

_Circa Year 60, First Age ___

__Nauron buried the dying embers of their campfire and shouldered his bow. Across him, Andir was sheathing twin hunting blades into worn leather scabbards while Calin erased all other traces of their presence. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon. A strange chill lingered in the air._ _

__The three elves shared a nod and moved deeper into the forest, starting on the trail that would lead them to the ridge of the hills. They swiftly traversed the distance in stealth. Here beneath the dense canopy, the sun’s golden fingertips could barely pierce through. All was peaceful save for the occasional rustling created by the wind. But when they arrived near the hill crest, the area was enveloped by an unsettling silence._ _

__“It is so close in here that my breath seems stolen away,” whispered Andir._ _

__“They say that game has been scarce here lately. Now we know why,” Nauron whispered back._ _

__A hand signal from Calin hushed them. Immediately, they looked to where he indicated. But before Andir and Nauron could spot their mark, a whistle of feathers suddenly cut through the air, one of them plundering deep into Calin. The elf staggered back from the force, his eyes widening in horror as the light in them flitted out._ _

__The two standing elves reflexively ducked, taking cover behind the thick girth of peeling boles. They nocked arrows to their bows, steadied their hearts and answered the attack. No sooner had their shots sailed towards the enemy’s supposed position when orcs in tarnished armour burst forth from the gloom, charging at the two elves under the cover fire of black fletchings from their own hidden comrades. Nauron released a succession of arrows, each flying true, piercing the creatures through exposed crevices at their neck._ _

__A roar of anger from behind a line of trees betrayed the enemy’s true location. Quickly, Andir scaled the distance and dispatched three orc archers in hiding. Nauron made quick work of the remaining brutes, spattering their black blood across the ground. Then, as abrupt as it had begun, the forest floor fell deathly silent again._ _

__“They must be patrols.”_ _

__Nauron nodded. “See to Calin,” he said to Andir._ _

__From where they stood, Nauron could now smell the foul air carried from beyond the crest of the hills. Warily, he crouched his way to the hilltop. He saw a divide in the sky where rumbling dark clouds from the north were gradually displacing the brightness of the young morning. Carrion birds were circling overhead in wide arcs. But when he gazed downwards, Nauron exhaled in horror._ _

__Orcs, in an ominous black mass that spanned half a league were congregated over fires that dotted the camp. The elf estimated the company at close to a thousand strong and with his sharp eyes, he could see that each one was geared for battle. Small skirmishes had already begun among the orcs, their confrontations yielding odiously mauled carcasses that were cast away for free looting by the spectators. Nauron shuddered to think how far their trail of destruction extended to before they made camp here. Gathering his courage, he retreated to where Andir stood with his head bowed over Calin. Their eyes met and Andir shook his head in reply._ _

__“We take him with us. Anywhere but here would be better when the orc army passes over these hills,” said Nauron. “We must hurry! Those in the town must be warned.”_ _

__Just then, as if to punctuate his last word, they heard an orc horn bellowing. At that moment, Nauron feared that they might be too late._ _


	2. Chapter 2

The tremors in the ground woke Gwaewcol. He glanced sideways towards his wife but the beautiful elf-woman was still wrapped in dreams. He waited a moment, ears straining to catch the faint sounds. Indeed, he could hear, even feel, the rhythmic stamp of many feet.

Sitting upright in bed, Gwaewcol saw that the sky was still dark in the sleeping town north of Brithombar. Quickly, he pulled on a tunic and hesitantly picked up his sword. Rumours of battles scorching the lands of Beleriand have been rampant since the arrival of the Noldor, making many rather nervous. ‘Unfortunately, it includes me,’ thought Gwaewcol to himself as he made his way silently out of the room.

When he stood at the doorstep, he could smell foreboding in the winds. With some apprehension, he extended his keener sight to the far distance. To Gwaewcol’s shock, he saw hundreds of orcs marching towards their direction, herded by several balrogs. 

Without hesitation, he shouted for his family to rise before taking to the streets in search of the night patrol. “Sound the alarm,” he cried. “Awake, awake! The enemy is upon us! Awake!” 

The town march came alert, peering into the horizon just as the first lines of the enemy appeared. In a surge of panic, they scrambled to ring the bells in the watchtowers. One by one, homes began to flicker to life in the darkness. Doors opened, revealing puzzled inhabitants, some yet to be fully roused by the pealing bells. Irritance evaporated the moment they saw the grim faces of the town march. 

The atmosphere quickly escalated into a cacophonous mix of confusion and people barking orders against the feverish cadence of the alarm. Somewhere in the midst of the commotion, a few armed groups assembled but even they were persuaded to run. “It is folly to stand!” shouted the tower wardens down at them. “You are outnumbered!”

It seemed like an eternity to Gwaewcol before the town was fully awake. When he returned to his own doorstep, he saw his son stumbling towards him, an elfling in embrace. “Adar, naneth has led the rest ahead. We should go!”

He pulled his son along, needing no conviction for the enemy was already within the town’s fringes. Their black presence bore down upon him like an anvil. Screams of terror were starting to rise, mingled with the smell of blood in the air. Gwaewcol and his son, Idhrenol, ran for their lives, towing along terrified inhabitants who were rooted in shock over the unfolding massacre. The ground rumbled and groaned under the crashing buildings. Ahead, Gwaewcol glimpsed his wife leading others in escape. Around them, he saw chaos gradually closing in on them like a tightening noose.

Pushing Idhrenol’s pace, they strove to catch up with those in front when suddenly, the house beside them exploded into a spray of glass, rock and flame, sending Gwaewcol and some others flying from the impact. A balrog fifteen feet in height emerged from the debris and cracked a whip, wrapping it around hapless elves who were then flung into a rabble of bloodlust orcs, their pitiful pleas in vain.

The balrog spun around, its gaze falling upon Idhrenol who was trying to crawl away with his elfling brother. It regarded him with a mask of demonic glee as it spread its wings. The beast held out its hand as smoke and fire swirled within it into a broadsword. 

Gwaewcol, on the opposite side of the carnage was shaking his head to clear it when a scream pierced the air. “Idhrenol!” cried a woman’s voice. “Amaron!”

Seeing the unfolding peril, Gwaewcol cast aside the pains he felt and charged at the balrog. As he came skidding towards the creature’s haunches, he drew out his sword and slashed across the charred skin. It howled in pain and dropped to its knees, the broadsword falling waywardly, missing Idhrenol by mere feet.

Without breaking a stride, Gwaewcol plunged the sword into the belly of the balrog. When the bulk came falling towards him, he sidestepped and brought another fatal stroke down on the creature’s neck. Putrid smoke reeked out from the gash and the wings thrashed violently, swaying Gwaewcol but he held fast, his breath in heaves as he watched the red gleam in the balrog’s eyes fade.

A moment later, Idhrenol appeared by his side, helping him loosen the blade then drawing him away from the carcass. The fight seemed to have ignited a ferocity in Gwaewcol that he has not felt in a long time. 

In the distance, he saw another balrog watching him and his son curiously, likely because the earlier battle has drawn its attention. The gazes of both sides met for a brief moment and a flash of strange recognition passed the creature’s malicious eyes. 

Gwaewcol quickly turned away. He and Idhrenol continued their desperate escape as quickly as their legs permitted. Amaron held on to the latter tightly, mute from fear. Through the thick, black smoke and chaos, Gwaewcol could see his wife and the remnant of her group running parallel to them. Throwing a glance backwards, he saw the balrog who had observed him earlier depart from the main host and take flight.

Dread captured his heart in a vice-like grip, yet at the same time, a tingle of anticipation ran along his body. Deep within, Gwaewcol could hear the strains of an ancient melody and so he knew that the foretold fate was upon him. ‘Alas! it comes just when I am needed and my choices are so thin,’ he cursed.

Then with the calmest voice he could muster, he said to Idhrenol, “My son, this may be the day when we shall part. Hearken to me, for our secret is no longer safe! Be wary now of whom you reveal your name to for it has been declared to many in an unfortunate moment. Say it not unless you have first been called by it. Now flee with Amaron. If fate permits, I shall find you again!” A gust of flying debris prohibited Idhrenol from protesting. 

Gwaewcol shoved his son ahead just as orcs came running at them. He turned to confront the rabble but the orcs passed him fearfully when they saw a light radiating from his face. He was left the lone soul standing upon a broken land. Looking up to the sky, Gwaewcol saw a shadow looming overhead.

The balrog dived straight for him. The elf swung his sword but the blade’s connection merely skewed the path of the creature. It veered back and landed with a thunderous force, whipping up dust and ash. With blinding speed, it brought a sabre down upon Gwaewcol’s head. The elf quickly raised his sword to block the attack. Their weapons met with a furious clang, the force threatening to sink Gwaewcol deep into the earth.

He threw his weight into heaving the sabre, igniting a shower of sparks as it was deflected. Gwaewcol recovered and charged at the creature. Gripping his sword with both hands, he moved to thrust the blade into the balrog’s chest. But it twisted away, vying for elf’s open back in return. Gwaewcol ducked low, narrowly missing the swiping blade.

Parries were exchanged at a frenzied rate. To the eyes of others, they were a massive shadow and a being of brilliance engaged in a close fight. Sounds of clashing metal echoed across the plain. Gwaewcol could feel himself tiring but he knew his family needed more time to escape. Minutes that seemed like hours passed excruciatingly.

In one moment, Gwaewcol leaped backwards just as a monstrous fist pounded the ground where he had stood. With a fluid movement, he took his chance and slammed his sword down, severing off the balrog’s wrist. The creature roared. Sinewy wings swept Gwaewcol off his feet, throwing his weapon out of his hands.

In that disorientation, he felt talons grip him. He screamed in agony as the fires blistered his flesh. Then a voice like gravel spoke to him in his mind. “Of all the forms you could take, you choose to embody a weaker race! Now after you, I will have all of them slaughtered. But your own spawn, I shall bring them to the feet of the Dark One, and they could be his bounties.”

“No,” answered Gwaewcol defiantly as he felt his body crumpling, giving him a sense of liberation. The song in his heart grew louder and the light shone stronger from his being. “By the will of Manwë, I shall destroy you first, thrall of Morgoth!” 

The balrog snarled in response. Then last thing they both saw was the sky ablaze with a glorious white fire.

 

 

Half a league away, small bands of orcs were still pursuing the survivors. The foul were diffusing themselves among the fleeing, cutting down anyone who was within a blade’s reach. 

A harried Idhrenol was trying to reunite with his mother, the urgency escalating when he heard her scream as the vile creatures swarmed her group. Frantically, he searched for her, pushing his way through the sea of bodies. But negotiating across a stampeding crowd of both elves and orcs only buffeted him further away. Possibilities of regrouping were diminishing quickly. 

The young elf was carrying weapons that did not allow him to fight, especially not with Amaron slung around him. Glancing back with a hope to see his father, he saw instead a white brilliance radiating from the centre of the burning town. The brightness grew until it blinded him. Then a sudden force so powerful it heaved the earth below his feet, knocked all within three miles to the ground. In that stunned moment, Idhrenol knew that Gwaewcol was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

There was barely a chance for Idhrenol to contemplate the devastation that had befallen his family and home. He has been running and hiding for days, initially with groups of other elves. But then, the enemy had come and thinned his company rapidly, picking off the slower and weaker in vicious ambushes until only him and his brother remained. In a handful of narrow escapes, Idhrenol had sometimes been left to witness the horrific consequences of capture. He had protected his elfling brother from these harrowing images, yet a small part of him worried if the distress he has failed to mask frightened Amaron all the same. 

But now, when Idhrenol was more certain that none followed their trail, his primal instincts gradually ebbed, only to be replaced by fatigue. He rested little because he feared sleep would overtake him. He rarely stopped, save to forage for food and hunt for small game when all conditions permitted. 

Amaron, who was still slung in front of him, was exhausted by their week-long flight. He whimpered in his sleep, tugging upon Idhrenol’s shirt which caused him to wince. The gash upon his back, sustained during an attack one night was still raw. He was grateful, however, for the others he had been in company with were all slain mercilessly.

Idhrenol scanned the undulating, scarce plain. The sun was beating down on him, blunting his awareness. _‘I must stop for a while’ _, he thought to himself.__

__He stumbled into a shallow trench carved out by the weather on the uneven ground. He was glad to see that thick brushes kept the place concealed enough before he sat down in a heap. Idhrenol could not bring himself to sleep hence conceded to rummaging around his make-shift sack for green fruit. He fussed over his brother, hoping that he was actually helping the little elfling._ _

__Then suddenly, the elf saw the sunlight flicker above him. Reflexively, he drew his only long hunting knife and struggled to his feet. He waited but all was quiet and he felt unnerved. Skulking as noiselessly possible out of their hiding place, he emerged to find two arrows marked upon him. Beyond the bows were faces grim but familiar.  
Almost weeping with relief, Idhrenol fell to his knees. “Help us,” he begged. Uncovering the elfling, he said, “Help him! He has been starving for days. Please!”_ _

__The other two elves exchanged a glance and lowered their bows. They were garbed in forest hues with thick leather armour. One of them took flight without a word while the other pulled out a waterskin and offered it to the distraught elf. “Here, drink this. Were you hunted?”_ _

__Idhrenol shook his head. The strain he had bottled up was threatening to overwhelm him. “Orcs had followed us for the first ten leagues, but we have pressed on in the last three days with little rest. Nothing has crossed behind nor in front of us in that time.”_ _

__The armoured elf’s expression softened. “Breathe easy now, for you are among kin. My name is Galadhon and the other is Saeril. We have received tidings that the Pass of Sirion has been breached, so we ventured out to see the situation for ourselves. Do you have the strength to follow us back to our camp? The journey is about a league from here,” said Galadhon. Idhrenol nodded, having no wish to be left behind._ _

__The trek was long to his blistered feet. His light shoes had been shredded in various places during attempts at harder routes so to evade capture. But he shuffled on, relying on sheer determination._ _

__After a time of passing by rows of beeches, they heard the musical rhythm of a river nearby. The one called Saeril who had returned to join them mid-journey, halted. “Can you climb?” he asked, his eyes looking upwards to the tree tops._ _

__Idhrenol followed his gaze and saw connected platforms upon sturdy branches. On any other day, he knew this feat to be unthinkably simple but now, he doubted his ability to even climb over a ledge._ _

__Saeril whistled a blackbird’s call and a silvery grey rope was tossed down from the tree. “I will help you,” said Galadhon to Idhrenol. “If you allow Saeril to take the child, I can support you as you climb.”_ _

__Idhrenol nodded weakly, sensing that he has little choice. He unfastened the sling and gently transferred his burden. Then, using what he felt to be his last ounce of strength, he started climbing the rope to the top. At the last two feet before the platform opening, he saw that Saeril has already scaled to the top with Amaron._ _

__A hand reached out to pull Idhrenol onto the platform. Emerging from it, he saw a third elf smiling at him. “The western border is clear, captain,” he said to Galadhon._ _

__“Very well, Amros,” replied Galadhon. “I shall take the first watch at nightfall. Saeril, bring me the bandages. Our guest here will have a rough evening if we do nothing about the wound on his back.”_ _

__Idhrenol was too exhausted to wonder how Galadhon knew. He was glad to finally have aid and even more relieved that that aid was coming from a group of marchwardens. _‘The night may just pass uneventfully. We might just survive this,’ _he thought.___ _

____Surrendering to Galadhon’s ministrations, he watched Amros feed Amaron, who clung dearly to the waterskin. Slowly, Idhrenol’s eyes began to close._ _ _ _

____\----------_ _ _ _

____The sky has only just settled into a deep, inky blue when Idhrenol awoke with a start. A hand gently pulled him back and Galadhon said quietly, “Calm down, you are safe here. Rest, for you have need of sleep.”_ _ _ _

____Idhrenol shook his head.”My heart runs chill at the thought of sleep,” he replied._ _ _ _

____Galadhon regarded him kindly. “You fear the things you have seen for real to haunt your dreams as well,” he said. Idhrenol nodded, frustrated at how weak he felt.  
“You may never forget it, unfortunately,” continued the marchwarden captain. “But time usually diminishes some of the fear with the help of a shelter and some food. You are young. Where the world is heading, we may all see more horrors yet.”_ _ _ _

____The crispness of the night prompted Idhrenol to wrap his cloak tighter around himself. At the corner of the platform, he saw Saeril holding the elfling close while they both slept.  
Galadhon passed him a flask of silver, saying, “This may help.” The liquid was cool to his lips yet it brought warmth to the end of Idhrenol’s fingertips._ _ _ _

____“What is your name?” asked Galadhon._ _ _ _

____A memory came unbidden to Idhrenol. ‘Say it not unless you have first been called by it,’ Gwaewcol had said before Idhrenol and Amaron were cast away._ _ _ _

____Idhrenol was quite certain that he could trust these elves. But he had also seen betrayal instigated by duress recently. His tired wit advised caution. “I am Sedryn, from a small town near Brithombar,” he answered at last. “The child is my brother and we call him Huindîr.”_ _ _ _

____“Aptly named for your brother is a most resilient babe,” said Galadhon. “I must commend your father, for he has taught you early and remarkably well to survive this long. I sense that you are young, perhaps not surpassing two hundred summers.”_ _ _ _

____“Fourty three and a hundred.”_ _ _ _

____Galadhon smiled. “Now, Sedryn. There is no need to remind me how far I have fallen from youth.”_ _ _ _

____Across them, Amaron stirred, craning his neck to survey the platform. Seeing his older brother awake, he wriggled out of Saeril’s gentle hold and padded towards Idhrenol who waited to embrace him._ _ _ _

____“May I ask who you are?” asked the elder of the two brothers._ _ _ _

____“We are loyal servants of a hidden kingdom.”_ _ _ _

____Idhrenol’s mind immediately pounced on two names of hidden kingdoms in Beleriand. “What will happen to us?”_ _ _ _

____“That will be my burden, for I must judge if you are worthy of our trust. Your journey henceforth shall depend on this decision. Rest now, both of you, and leave me to my reflections.”_ _ _ _

____\----------_ _ _ _

____Hours later, Idhrenol suddenly felt small hands patting the side of his face. “Muindor, wake up!” whispered someone urgently into his ear. Blinded momentarily by the morning sun, his vision slowly adjusted to an anxious face with big, blue eyes. “They are going to leave soon!”_ _ _ _

____Idhrenol shook his head to clear it of sleep. Before him, Galadhon and Amros were breaking camp while Saeril was distributing the morning’s food rations.  
“Worry not, little one. We have no intention of leaving both of you here,” said Saeril with a smile. The child sighed audibly with relief, provoking laughter from everyone except his brother._ _ _ _

____“You’re not?” asked a puzzled Idhrenol. “How could we have fulfilled your condition already?”_ _ _ _

____Galadhon sat down next to him and accepted the food Saeril handed to him. “You speak as if you would not. But my verdict is to believe that we can trust you.”_ _ _ _

____The questioning look on Idhrenol’s face did not abate. The marchwarden captain explained, “People who have never known the horrors of death tend to talk in their sleep and I have heard enough to glimpse the truth. Furthermore, and do forgive me for saying as I mean no insult, but your brother and you look fouler than you feel. There is genuineness to be found in your hearts- this all three of us can agree.'  
‘However, I will admit to one thing, for it has given me pause at times throughout the night- there is something implacable about both of you, though my instincts doubt that it is sinister in nature.”_ _ _ _

____Idhrenol hid his worry at Galadhon’s last words. He knew the truth to be more useful now. “Captain, you are not the first to deem us a little different, therefore I cannot grudge you for having that thought,” he replied quietly._ _ _ _

____Galadhon eyed him for a moment. “Very well, you may follow us. We shall now count on you to keep our secret. Understand this- if you break the trust, there will be many, including myself, who would not hesitate to cut you down.” Idhrenol nodded his full comprehension._ _ _ _

____Once they were ready to move, Amros took to the fore, scouting their trail ahead. As Idhrenol carried his brother who was now known to the party as Huindîr, the marchwarden captain came to walk next to them._ _ _ _

____“Do you recognise where we are?” he asked._ _ _ _

____It was one of the things that Idhrenol has been pondering, partially as a distraction, since their departure from the camp. He had a rough guess after distilling his choices. “I judge that we must be alongside the river Ginglith, unless I have passed it unknowingly and entered Tumhalad. I have tried to keep our course as eastward as possible during the escape,” he answered._ _ _ _

____“You would be right. We are close to five leagues away from where the Ginglith will meet Narog. The sound will be unmistakable once you come to learn it, for there is where home lies.”_ _ _ _

____The party travelled slowly, staying close to the river once they encountered it. Idhrenol felt a little guilty for he knew that they were accommodating him. Although the wound upon his back was healing most rapidly, the task of carrying Amaron throughout the journey was still a challenge to his weary body._ _ _ _

____At last, when they passed over the river’s crossroads and followed only the mighty current of Narog, Idhrenol could see the three marchwardens visibly relax. In opportune glimpses, he thought he saw other elven sentinels watching the road._ _ _ _

____“Do you see them?” whispered Amaron._ _ _ _

____“Yes, little one. Yet, I do not think we should have anything to fear,” Idhrenol returned. Another matter that was riddling his thoughts finally pecked with urgency. “Now, my dear brother, I need you to be brave and help me.” Amaron stared into his brother’s eyes for a long moment and eventually nodded._ _ _ _

____Close to half a league later, all the marchwardens halted and turned towards the two elves. “Sedryn and Huindîr, from here you will enter our home. It gladly opens its heart to those who seek sanctuary and in return, it asks for only one thing and you must swear to it now.”_ _ _ _

____Idhrenol could feel his brother shuffle closer to him, small fingers squeezing his hand. He calmed his heart and listened, feeling in it only peace and surprisingly, affirmation for what he just came to decide a while ago. “Then ask and we shall fulfil it.”_ _ _ _

____“Our home only asks for loyalty. In no manner will you ever betray its seat, even unto the day you choose to leave it willingly. Of course, you can also endeavour to serve it in any capacity you possess,” said Galadhon._ _ _ _

____Idhrenol did not doubt what he would say. “We swear to keep this land’s secret and I shall offer my strength and heart. I will vouch for my young brother here until the day he comes of age and is answerable for his own actions.”_ _ _ _

____The three marchwardens nodded. “Then welcome, Sedryn and Huindîr,” said Galadhon. “Now we enter the realm of Finrod Felagund, Lord of Nargothrond.”_ _ _ _


	4. Interlude

_Year 455 First Age ___

__The cold winter winds danced amongst the blades of grass in darkened Ard-Galen. The deepest of nights was settling in over Beleriand. The eyes of the stars were dim and the chariot of Tilion was hidden._ _

__All around the rim of this Green Region, campfires burned low and sleep was thick among the patrolling companies. The horsemen of Hithlum were running free on the plains of dreams while one lonely soldier bore the dullness of the watch, occasionally casting his companions a disgruntled glance. The Noldorin in their camp reminisced under the starless night, wondering what was occupying their kin in faraway Valinor. All was quiet, even unto the feet of Thangorodrim._ _

__Then suddenly, something changed. A sharp howl discorded the dreams of all upon Ard-Galen. A deep rumbling followed, beginning at the dark fortress and resonating all the way to the fringes of the plain. A few seconds later, it all eerily stopped._ _

__Elves and men glanced at each other in their respective camps, hoping to find assurances that the last few moments weren’t as tangible as they feared. But their expressions were mirrored on every face._ _

__A hundred, rapid heartbeats passed and nothing further moved. Some began to let go of their held breaths. No sooner have they exhaled, a growl ripped through the night, like boulders gnashing against each other in a tempest. The earth shivered and dark clouds began swirling towards the Mountains of Iron whose skin was splintering with bright red veins._ _

__All who watched that night froze in awe and fear, oblivious to their mounts fleeing the camp. Then the ground broke and the Iron Peaks erupted in full force, emitting poisonous fumes into the night. The explosion was deafening, the force sweeping elves and men alike off their feet._ _

__Rivers of flame poured forth across the lush field, devouring the fodder. Clouds of ash and embers rained down from the sky, seeking hungrily for the forests at the edge of Ard-Galen. Chaos seized all the camps._ _

__The fiery rivers were swift and those who could not outrun them perished, their bodies melting quickly before the eyes of those who have escaped to the hills. The peaks of Dorthonion and Ered Wethrin bore witness to the carnage, their feet steeped in lava. Alas! for this was only the night’s prelude._ _

__Some claimed to have heard the massive gates of Angband turn on its hinges, allowing rank after rank of orcs to issue forth, followed by winged demons of fire. Yet, nothing prepared them for the greatest horror when a flash of red and gold scales descended onto the charred plain that was once hallowed by the Valar themselves._ _

__All that night heard the mesmerizing voice of Glaurung, the Great Worm. The dragon said, “Few of you shall be permitted to return to your false kings after tonight. Let it be known that Morgoth will have his revenge. Your siege of Angband is over. And tell the Fëanorini that their days are numbered.”_ _


	5. Chapter 5

Amaron looked out into the main square of Nargothrond and saw the multitudes of refugees, all sore of foot, weary and seemingly devoid of hope. They have been arriving in droves beginning a month ago yet the kingdom scouts reported that more will follow. 

The young elf bent down to inspect a broken arm. The gashes along the forearm were thankfully less grievous than it looked. Gently, Amaron cleaned the wound and aligned the arm to a splint. After he secured the last knot to the sling, he touched the wounded elf’s skin, delivering a subtle flow of energy he drew from the earth. His patient barely noticed any of it.

“The arm will mend soon enough, my friend,” said Amaron encouragingly.

The next elf he attended to had an arrow through the thigh. The fletching was gone, possibly cut off in haste during the escape. Amaron sighed inwardly, not because he found the work tiresome, but rather because the wounds he tended to were more dire by the day. _‘In the name of Elbereth, can we see the end of this?’ _he thought.__

__Amaron continued on for hours. Each time, he drew forth a miniscule amount of energy from the vast ocean he felt radiating from the earth’s core. This power touched him as it skimmed the surface and he had, as a child, naively thought that everyone else felt its presence too._ _

__Such an assumption proved itself to be wrong the day he had decided to use that power on someone. He distinctively remembered being ten years of age when his brother had returned from a border scrimmage more battered than usual. The injuries Idhrenol, or rather Sedryn as he was known in Nargothrond, had sustained were trivial compared to what others in the company had received but it was enough to make a young Amaron feel sorry for his brother._ _

__On one of the mornings, the elfling had entered Idhrenol’s chambers to deliver the needed medicine. When pulling the covers over the sleeping figure, Amaron came to realise that he had never before seen such fatigue painted on his only remaining family. That was when the thought had occurred to him._ _

__Without hesitation, Amaron had put his hand to Idhrenol’s face and willed the strength he felt in the earth to his brother. The latter had jolted awake in shock, scaring the elfing at the same time._ _

__“What did you do?” Idhrenol had demanded._ _

__“I…I don’t know,” Amaron had stammered in return. “What did I do? Forgive me, muindor! Are you hurt?”_ _

__His brother began searching himself but had found nothing. On the contrary, the wounds had closed and the bruises were faded, which made Idhrenol frown, as if he was considering something. “I am alright,” he had answered in the end. “I think I have to thank you instead, little one.”_ _

__Relief had washed over Amaron. “I did not mean to wake you. I just thought I could help like how I help mend the hurts of the other little creatures. They normally just scurry away like a lightning bolt after that. I think I may have found the reason for that now,” he had replied with a grimace. “But I was wondering why you were still unwell. Did you not use it?”_ _

__“Use what?”_ _

__“Do you not feel it?”_ _

__Idhrenol had looked thoughtfully at Amaron for a long while. Eventually, he broke into a quiet laugh. “My dear brother, worry no more, for no harm was done. Quite the opposite actually, and now I shall need your help to construct a tale on how I went from being embarrassingly battered to this state in a matter of days!” he had said as he reached his hand out to the elfling. “I understand now what just happened and what it is. Amaron, there is a reason why I had sought for your secrecy the day we came to Nargothrond and why you must be known as Huindîr here. I am afraid this request must continue and you must promise me that you will learn how to wield this strength discreetly. Both of our fates, and perhaps many others’ as well, may come to depend on our humility.’  
‘Yes, I swear to bare my reasons when you are older so that you can better understand and judge as you wish, the actions that I have chosen on behalf of us to do. But for now, will you please do what I have requested of you?”_ _

__Amaron had dutifully obeyed, just as he always did with such requests from Idhrenol because he had sensed his brother struggling with a buried torment ever since the day they were forced to flee home. Yet, this nameless burden that Idhrenol has tried very hard to conceal from the world never hindered him from providing Amaron with unconditional love, safety and trust._ _

__And so, the younger elf had taken the time to be a master of this innate ability. Idhrenol had frequently talked to him about it, seeking to understand; and this had helped Amaron dissipate the discontentment seeded by the imposed restraint. Then once Amaron had come of age and learnt most of what Idhrenol’s burden was, he had vowed his loyalty to his brother._ _

__After all the work with the wounded refugees, he surveyed the square once more before he was assured that each one has been cared for. He gave the command to his retinue of two hundred to retire._ _

__Amaron entered one of the main doors into the cavernous hallways of Nargothrond. Thousands of lamps were already lit to replace the waning rays of the setting sun. Many bearing food and blankets passed him, their direction towards the square._ _

__A short walk later, the elf arrived at the modest home he shared with his brother. There were arms laid out at the ready near the entrance. “Muindor?” he called out._ _

__“In the study,” another voice answered. Amaron crossed the hall and pushed open the door. Idhrenol stood behind his desk, studying a map with a mask of concentration._ _

__“What is it?” asked Amaron._ _

__Idhrenol sighed and shook his head, his fingers tapping at several points on the map. “The Pass of Aglon has been breached. Maedhros and Maglor have fallen back, so orcs will now be roaming freely in the east. I fear many more will come to Nargothrond before winter is over.”_ _

__Amaron studied the map beside his brother. “Do you worry that we would have to welcome more sons of Fëanor here?”_ _

__Idhrenol smiled wearily. “Very funny, Amaron. As amusing as your remark is, you would do well not to let his other sons hear that,” he reprimanded, referencing Celegorm and Curufin who were already the kingdom after their lands had fallen to the Angband attacks. “And that is the Lord Finrod’s concern, not ours.”_ _

__“Then what troubles you?” asked Amaron. The older of the two did not answer. “Do you fear that we will be discovered by the forces of Morgoth?”_ _

__Idhrenol sat down, hands rubbing his temple. “No,” he replied. “I have long been at peace with that fear, for I believe that we will be found eventually and I am as prepared for that day as I will ever be. At least we are both stronger, and hopefully wiser to face that moment when it comes.”_ _

__Amaron circled the table and took the seat opposite his brother, eyes studying him. “You have not answered my question.”_ _

__“I have answered part of it.”_ _

__Amaron sighed. “I know what it is, muindor. You are going to drive yourself mad!”_ _

__“And yet you ask.”_ _

__“And again, it is because you will not accept my offer.”_ _

__Idhrenollooked up to gaze at his brother. “I sometimes forget that you are no longer that child I had carried into Nargothrond,” he said fondly. “But some worries should stay my own, especially when I doubt their validity.”_ _

__Amaron rolled his eyes. “You are akin to somebody deliberately poisoning himself,” he replied. “I could help you, muindor, you know that. We may not share the same depth of intentions but that does not mean I deem your concern any less trivial. We have spoken of this many times.”_ _

__“But it is a matter in vain.”_ _

__“I do not consider it so.”_ _

__His brother was quiet. Then with a deep breath, Idhrenol stood up and walked towards Amaron, putting a hand on the latter’s shoulder. “I know your heart, little one, as you know mine. But I cannot easily overcome some faults in me, and I could not possibly use you,” said Idhrenol. “Come, let us dine together this evening before I depart.”_ _

__The younger elf knew that the matter was closed. He chided himself for another failed attempt before gathering his patience again. He understood that there was really nothing to resent in his older brother refusing his help. _‘One day, perhaps,’ _thought Amaron as he hurried out to join Idhrenol. “Are you heading to the borders?” he asked when he remembered the readied arms by the door of the house.___ _

____“Nay, tonight I leave with Galadhon’s company to scout the north and lend aid where we may.”_ _ _ _

____Amaron glanced at his brother. “I know what this journey means to you. Be careful out there and remember that I await your return,” he said._ _ _ _

____Idhrenol stopped as they neared the great hall. “To my last breath, you have my word. I expect the same from you when you lead your own wardens to patrol the western borders. Now cast away all the darkness, both our companies need us,” he answered before pushing the great doors open._ _ _ _


	6. Chapter 6

_Year 457 First Age, winter ___

__Daylight finally roused her. The clamour gradually receded in her head, replaced instead by the steady patter of the rain. The air was cool, and it scattered away the haze and soothed the cuts on her body. Pebbles were grinding into her face but she hardly felt them._ _

__“Awake, my beloved angel, you must tarry no longer,” said a voice inside her mind. It was as clear as a bell chime._ _

__Eliniel Faeveren stirred, or thought she did, for her leaden body barely moved. She searched for strength in her fingers and sensed them dipped in a puddle. Pain from the fractures and broken bones amalgamated into one vociferous protest at her body’s slightest movements._ _

__She became lost in the hours that rolled by as the rain slowed to a drizzle. Her eyes remained shut. “There is nothing more for you here now. You must go,” said that voice again. Eliniel recognised it as her mother’s. The elf-maiden tried to object but that voice silenced her, saying, “Someone is coming.”_ _

__She tried listening beyond the rush of blood in her ears. There were footsteps approaching her direction. Eliniel could feel her heart simultaneously race and sink into dread. The sound grew closer until she could discern the lightness of the gait. Then the stranger gasped, “Faeveren!”_ _

__Eliniel felt hands slowly lift her up. At last, her eyelids cracked open a sliver and she looked into a wearied face whose brow was caked with dried blood. There was recognition and her fears quietened. Then she fell back into her comforting darkness._ _

__The murkiness gradually reopened to corridors of birch, their boles glowing silver in the twilight. Unease crept into her heart when she noticed their heads reflecting an orange light. The air brought the smell of smoke._ _

__Eliniel turned around and saw the blazing tips of carnage stretching to the sky. Sounds of terror cut the night, paralyzing her. Her thoughts raced, multiple strands that suddenly entwined into one._ _

__“Naneth,” said Eliniel with realisation. She broke into a sprint, heading straight back towards the village. The heat was increasing with the closing distance. There were other elves fleeing in the opposite direction. Many called out to Eliniel, some even trying to turn her course around but she paid them no heed. Her view of the light source grew wider and wider until she hurtled onto the village grounds. Eliniel gaped in horror._ _

__Homes were burning like bonfires. Against the light, shadows showed the valiant parrying with the orcs, their simpler weapons notching quickly. The stench of fear mingled with death. Eliniel searched desperately, praying that the one she sought was not among the fallen bodies._ _

__“Naneth!” she shouted. When she took a step forward, a massive bulk charged at her, throwing her to the ground with its weight. In the firelight, Eliniel saw the gleam of a spear, poised to be plunged into her throat._ _

__She struggled to break free when suddenly the orc’s snarl got cut off. The dead weight was rolled off her. “Eliniel!” cried someone._ _

__Eliniel quickly sat up and exhaled with relief to see her mother, Laerlin, freeing her blade from the orc. Then together, they ran into the dark woods. The younger elf stole a quick glance at Laerlin. Similar in their appearance, the latter’s sterner countenance was streaked with soot but otherwise seemed unharmed._ _

__The night’s silence gave them a little reprieve although not far into their escape, the two elves could sense that they were being followed. The sound of heavy footsteps soon became audible. Laerlin’s brow furrowed with worry._ _

__“Naneth, we must turn course somehow,” urged Eliniel. But with a quick look around, she finally understood her mother’s disquiet. There were movements behind and beside them._ _

__Beneath the starlight, both elves saw the edge of a cliff ahead. The ten fathom height was not a steep drop but rows of ancient birch stood imperiously along the incline. They were trapped._ _

__Forced to halt, Laerlin turned around and moved protectively in front of her daughter. Orcs soon emerged from the shadows onto the narrow glade, surrounding the two elves and mocking their predicament. Laerlin drew her sword, tensely awaiting the attack. An eerie quiet fell upon the circle._ _

__Then with a roar, one of the orcs ran towards them, its cutlass raised high. But suddenly, a flurry of arrows shot out from the darkened corridors of trees. Battle cries split the night as a group of elves came charging in behind the enemy._ _

__“Tûon!” cried Eliniel when she saw the one leading the group._ _

__The wave of the attack came fiercely as this small company of elves hewed down the orcs with a mad fury fearsome to behold. Slowly, they encroached the enemies’ circle, moving towards Laerlin and her daughter. The clamour was frightening and the forest floor hissed from the pouring of blood, both black and red._ _

__At the rim of the cliff, one orc was easily holding the upper hand while challenging Laerlin and Eliniel. Their desperation was no match for the creature’s bloodlust as it deterred them from a single riposte. In one weak moment, both their weapons were cast out of reach and the orc swept Eliniel away with a backhand._ _

__Laerlin shrank away in fear, defenceless against the advancing orc. “The witch of Brithon, you have eluded me long enough,” it barked with a harsh laugh._ _

__It raised its blade, ready to strike when from the corner of its eye, the creature espied Eliniel limping towards it with a knife in hand. Bellowing with anger, it flung its shield at the elf-maiden, the force so strong that she was propelled off the cliff’s edge. She could hear Laerlin’s scream resonating into the night as she fell into the darkness._ _

__\----------_ _

__Eliniel awoke with a start, her intake of breath so sharp that her ribs protested. Another hurried over, lending her weight to prop the elf-maiden up._ _

__“It is alright Faeveren, you are safe,” she said, stroking Eliniel’s dark hair. The chamber gradually sharpened into focus and the voice that cooed soothingly registered to be her dear childhood friend, Hareth._ _

__They were in a shallow cave warmed by the embers of a fire. The air was fresh, signalling the recent passing of a storm. Outside, the exuberant sun was shining, its rays stretching past the mouth of the entrance where two elflings sat in play under the watchful eyes of their mothers. Others were also present; some nursing injuries while some were occupied with small tasks. The place was bare save for a few skins and a meagre stock of food._ _

__Eliniel waited for her heart to calm. “How long has it been and where are we?” she asked, her voice hoarse._ _

__“Five nights since we found you, six since the attack,” replied Hareth as she put a cup to her friend’s lips. “By my count, we should have twelve leagues between us and the village now as we move every day.”_ _

__Eliniel took the water given to her and quickly counted the number of people in the cave. “Are we left with so few?”_ _

__Hareth cast a quick glance around. “There are twenty others with us, excluding the children. Most of us escaped without fatal wounds,” she said. “Some we had to leave behind,” she added quietly._ _

__“How did you manage to flee the village?” Eliniel asked. She could feel her friend shudder at her question._ _

__“Your mother ensured that I escaped with the others when the madness started. She could not find you hence she turned back,” Hareth replied softly._ _

__Eliniel nodded absently and was silent for a long time. Beneath, she was fighting to buoy her courage amidst a raging sea of dread. “Hareth,” she said at last, her voice surprisingly strong. She knew in her heart that she needed the certainty. “Is she gone?”_ _

__Hareth embraced her friend closer, the sorrow thick in her voice. “They could not reach Laerlin in time, Faeveren. I am sorry.”_ _

__The words sank in slowly but with a finality that wrenched Eliniel’s heart. Tears stung her eyes, blurring her sight of Tûon entering the cave with four others bearing forest game. As his gaze met hers, Eliniel turned away and wept silently into Hareth’s arms._ _

__

__\----------_ _

__

__Their journey westward was slow. They travelled by day and kept vigil at night, hoping that each watch would be most mundane for they were ill-prepared to face even a small attack. The skies were often overcast, something Tûon was grateful for since it allowed him and his elves to see farther._ _

__The company tried their best to keep their spirits up. Even the elflings proved well-behaved, neither despairing nor complaining. But both Hareth and Tûon worried about Eliniel.  
They would often walk beside the elf-maiden although conversation was scarce between them. Despite Eliniel’s grief, she remained functional, allowing others to tend to her injuries, even eating when food was insisted upon her. Yet, Eliniel’s mind wandered far when she believed that no one was looking. _ _

__A week has passed when the fastness of Taur-im-Duinath loomed ahead of them. Most in the company were in consternation because Tûon had announced that they would be keeping close to the forest’s girdle._ _

__He had assured the party that he has weighed the options countless of times since departing Ramdal. Tûon knew that many feared to approach the forest, be they elf, man or even orc; and he had admitted that the absolute darkness inside did once quail his heart when he entered that region long ago. Thus, he reasoned that it was better for their company to stay against the backdrop of a legend-filled domain than risk being spotted by the enemy on the open fields of East Beleriand._ _

__All had eventually acquiesced to his decision, trusting him to lead them although they remained tense during this dread-filled part of their journey. Once they came away from the lofty shadows of the forest unharmed, the very relieved company halted beside a brook, weary of foot and from apprehension._ _

__Eliniel went to the waters to fill their skins, followed inquisitively by one of the elflings. Beneath the afternoon rays, she looked long at her reflection in the running water and saw a tear fall into the merry current._ _

__Her fair skin was branded with bruises. Lacerations which were now drying into scabs speckled her face down to her neck. The length of her arms bore the story of her harsh fall. When the elfling saw her weep, he wrapped himself around her._ _

__“Do not be grieved,” said Mardil. “These wounds are not forever, or so I heard someone telling nana. I still believe you to be beautiful for I always see the stars bloom in your eyes.”_ _

__For the first time in weeks, Eliniel laughed. She hugged him and kissed his forehead. “Let there be no one to dispute your skill in words, my little elfling! Now hurry along and take these back to the others,” she said as she passed him the water skins. “And thank you, Mardil, for your words have lightened my heart.”_ _

__Mardil beamed as he took off, bypassing Tûon who was standing close. Eliniel met his eyes and a question went unspoken between them. Eliniel wordlessly invited him to join her._ _

__“I owe you my life, Tûon,” she said. “Thank you.”_ _

__“You would have done the same for me if you could, Faeveren,” he replied. “That was a good thing Mardil did for you.”_ _

__“By flattering me?”_ _

__Tûon laughed. “He is still young so he states exactly what he thinks, yet that is not what I meant. He has rekindled a sliver of life that was hiding in your soul through a single, genuine laugh,” he said._ _

__They looked out into the brook, its tranquillity captured in the brittle frost and the musical harmony of the stream. The day was approaching evening and birds were chirping in their homes, calling for their own to return. Eliniel and Tûon sat a long while immersed in the peace until the elf-maiden looked up._ _

__“What happened out there that night, Tûon?” she asked._ _

__He closed his eyes, a shadow of pain passing his face. “They just descended on us when nightfall came. No one heard them coming. The smell of smoke and blood was our warning and that was already too late.’  
‘In the thick of it all, I had feared that we would all perish needlessly. Then I saw Laerlin and you disappearing into the woods. Alas! Misfortune, if it was that, had led most of orcs straight to you and away from the village. I could then muster who was left,” said Tûon softly._ _

__He paused to collect his thoughts. “We did not defeat them, Faeveren. We could not. When you were cast off the cliff and…” he trailed off. “I had to retreat and save the others,” he continued. “I am truly sorry about Laerlin. I miss her dearly, too.”_ _

__Eliniel’s eyes shone bright. She did not reply but leaned in closer to give Tûon a long embrace to assure him that she was going to be alright. He breathed a soft sigh of relief and kissed her hair._ _

__“What am I going to do?” Eliniel whispered._ _

__“You will be strong. You only need to believe that deep inside, you genuinely do have a brave heart. Since you were a child, you have learnt no better lesson than independence from Laerlin. Sometimes a little too well,” Tûon answered with a smile. “Surely you must realise how capriciously stubborn you can sometimes be! Though your mother has named you Eliniel, the name that we have given you is admittedly, also apt.”_ _

__Eliniel mirrored his smile, remembering how the people of Ramdal have christened her as Faeveren a long time ago. “The most difficult thing for me to accept is that she is no longer around. No matter what frivolities or mischief I have conjured, I could always count on naneth helping me right it,” she sighed, feeling a tiny breath of life return in her after that confession. “I think I will miss even those times when she was so furious with me. I am glad you and Hareth were there to shield me at times.”_ _

__“You still have us, Faeveren. And remember that Laerlin will never leave you as long as you have not forgotten her,” said Tûon as he touched her cheek. “Retire for tonight. This place is fairly secure and we can afford a day here tomorrow to gather our strength before we continue to Nan-Tathren.”_ _

__Eliniel looked puzzled. “But my grandparents have left Nan-Tathren more than a century ago,” she said._ _

__“Nonetheless, the village still stands and there will be some folk around. We would do better to rest with a roof over our heads and also replenish our supplies before heading to the Bay of Balar,” said Tûon._ _

__The elf-maiden sighed. “Are we safe there then?”_ _

__Tûon shook his head. “I do not know. I doubt anyone truly knows.”_ _


	7. Chapter 7

The quiet village of Nan-Tathren has changed little since Eliniel last visited. There were barely a hundred habitants who tarried in this land of willow trees nestled between the mighty rivers of Narog and Sirion. 

More used to live here, but every few years, a small number would take to the Cape of Balar where they could rejoice in the ocean breeze, or even to Eglarest for the protection. Despite the relentless urging of Eliniel’s grandparents, Laerlin had resisted following them, only promising that she would consider the notion.

When the people of Ramdal arrived in idyllic Nan-Tathren, help poured out generously from the villagers. Boarding was shared and the injured quickly tended too. Wearied from the month-long journey, Eliniel made her way to her grandparents’ home which was still kept in order by the remaining household. Hareth accompanied her, along with Tûon and his son who had their own quarters on the same land.

The days passed and the tension among the refugees lessened. From her window, Eliniel watched the comings and goings while contemplating her future now that she was on her own. Each day, she replayed a particular memory to herself. It was a conversation she had shared with her mother when she was very young.

“Eliniel Faeveren,” Laerlin had said. “My child, there is very little that can part me from you. But there may come a day when misfortune finds and sunder us. Then remember that until our paths cross again, you must find your way north into Doriath. There, you must know, lies the Girdle of Melian. As long as that protection remains, Beleriand still has a sanctuary within it. Should you feel or become lost, look for Tûon because he will be able to guide you to some capacity. Perhaps, when your journey ends in Doriath, you may even find a life more complete there, for I know well that you are a restless creature. Wait not for others or the conflicts to cease because you cannot be certain that they will.” 

Laerlin had proceeded to drill Eliniel on the paths and landmarks to the kingdom of Thingol. Within an autumn, the young elfling knew the way to Doriath like the back of her hand. 

At the time, she had considered those lessons as a game although now, all of it seemed only to add on to a despairing memory. Every time she revisited the conversation, Eliniel felt nothing but a sore missing for that one person who had sheltered her all her life. To make matters worse, she now shunned sleep. Dark dreams were compounding her anxiousness, making each night a wrestle to stay awake. 

As she presently tried to concentrate on the book in her hands, the firm fingers of slumber were methodically releasing her grasp on the text. Before long, Eliniel heard the rhythmic cadence of gentle waves, beginning as a strain which gradually grew clearer. She could smell the salty breeze caressing her face and the sun glowing before her closed eyes.

When she opened them, Eliniel instinctively knew that it was a dream. A stretch of sandy beach lay before her, the ocean breathing deeply in the foreground. It was almost mid-morning and the air was warming up. Not too far away, she saw an elfling, perhaps only past two summers, her curls bouncing with levity in the wind. Worried that she may be an abandoned child, Eliniel looked around.

“Looking for me, little one?” someone asked.

Eliniel turned towards the voice, but in a blink realised that she was now seeing through the little girl’s eyes. A tall elf was approaching her, his face alight with a joyful smile. This stranger’s strength belied his gentleness as he scooped her delicate frame up and twirled her in a circle. Her peals of laughter joined the sea’s symphony and Eliniel felt contentment like no other in her heart.

She reclined comfortably in the crook of his arm as they walked upon the shore, occasionally chasing the waves in indulgent play. It was almost a mile later when she noticed an eagle flying towards them. The silhouette of the bird looked out of place among the gulls circling overhead.

The two elves stood waiting, watching its smooth descent. But when it loomed closer, Eliniel involuntarily shrank back because the creature was beyond her initial reckoning. She could feel her fingers tightening their grip upon this strange elf’s dark hair. He laughed, “There is nothing to fear, for I am here with you.”

He reached out his arm and the eagle landed lightly on it, folding its expansive wings. Eliniel eyed the predator warily, with half her body hidden behind the one who was carrying her.

“Meet Thorongil, son of Thorondor. He is only a little older than you are,” the elf said.

When she felt no threat, she sighed in relief, smiling at the elf whose eyes glimmered with hope. Then the vision dissolved.

The blurriness reopened to a chilly night. Eliniel now stood upon a precipice, the edge falling directly behind her feet. Below were the dark heads of birch trees. With a gasp, she turned around and felt her blood run cold. Orcs surrounded her in a familiar place.

“My child,” said a voice next to her. Eliniel’s heart skipped a beat when she saw her mother. “You should be on your way soon,” said Laerlin.

Before Eliniel could stutter a reply, she felt an impact hit her, throwing her off the cliff as a horrifying scream rendered the night. Desperate, she forced herself awake.

Her chamber door burst open, leading in a distressed Hareth. Eliniel sat upright in her bed, hands holding her head only to realise that she was covered in cold sweat.  
“I am alright,” she said quietly as Hareth came to sit beside her.

“Faeveren, we have been in Nan-Tathren for a month and none of those nights have given you any peace,” replied Hareth. “This is more than just nightmares.”

Eliniel took deep breaths, head still buried. “I am alright,” she repeated from behind her hands. “I will be fine. I did not just dream about that night. There was something different this time.”

Hareth eyed her friend. “Sunrise is not far away,” she said. “Return to sleep if you can. I shall stay near you.” Eliniel thanked her and made space on the bed.

She lay down even though sleep has already eluded her. Her thoughts returned to her mother’s last words in the dream then slowly, it wandered to a sea shore where an elfling was with a stranger whose face was suddenly obscured to her in the waking world.

 

 

Centuries ago, Laerlin had brought her elfling daughter to a place not far from the Nan-Tathren village. It was an unusual, small glade circled by ancient elms and dotted with bursting yellow blossoms in the warmer months.

“If you ever feel wearied or troubled, let this place give you reprieve,” Laerlin had said to Eliniel. “Know that the earth will share your tears, the winds above will lift your heart and the trees around us now will keep us safe. And I promise that you will always find me here should you need me.”

Eliniel sat in this very spot one afternoon, her eyes closed as she listened to the movement of the wind. It has always brought her calm, especially needed after nights where relays of dreams and nightmares overwhelmed her mind. Now there was a moment of precious clarity.

Throughout the months of spring, Eliniel has considered whether she should depart to the Bay of Balar, instead of Doriath, after Nan-Tathren. There was sensibility in going to the coast, since she would not be alone. Yet, her mother had always been firm on the eventual destination. It seemed almost like an instruction- to seek out Doriath was always reinforced whenever rumours of battles rampaging across Beleriand came to Ramdal. Her mind counselled her to follow the rest of the elves, but her heart implored her to heed Laerlin’s advice. Eliniel also had to admit that she was curious. It was only because fear threatened to wither away her remaining confidence that Eliniel was in doubt. 

‘You have always wanted to see the lands. Why are you so meek now when you can and need to make your own way? Nothing can be found in idleness!’ she reproached herself. She inhaled a deep breath, searching for strength. The elf-maiden knew her mother would not construct a careless plan, but she wished Laerlin had not overestimated her courage. ‘Does she truly believe I can accomplish this?’

A cool breeze then rippled gaily across the glade, shaking the delicate heads of the blossoms. She felt her disagreeing heart quietened. Before doubt seized her again, she hurried back to the village to seek out Tûon.

The quarters where he was staying with his son, Belron, was quiet today for a change. Stacks of supplies lined the wall, all in preparation for the journey to the southern coast of Beleriand. From the opened door, Eliniel could hear voices in conversation down the hallway. 

Three elves from Ramdal sat in discussion. A map marking the route to the Cape of Balar was laid out across the table. When Tûon saw her, he smiled in greeting and bade his company to dismiss.

“You have healed well,” he said to her. The colour has lately returned to her cheeks and only faint scars on her arms remained. Eliniel felt relief when she recognised her face again in the mirror. “Well, what can I do for you today, Faeveren?”

Eliniel hesitated for a moment, simultaneously berating her own nervousness. “Tûon, I will not be following the others to the south,” she finally blurted.  
“I know. We will not be leaving until a few days after the rest has departed.”

His reply caught her by surprise. “We?” asked Eliniel in puzzlement.

“I am not mistaken,” laughed Tûon. “Faeveren, Hareth and I have seen that look upon your face for months. It may have been the poor nights that seem to haunt you, yet each time we talk about our next journey, there is a briefest shadow of contemplation in your eyes. Now hearken to me! We have all willingly agreed- Hareth, Belron and I. So you will have our company to your destination, with or without your consent.”

“But you know naught of my plans!”

“Your plan is to head elsewhere and wherever that place is, I believe that your mother had a hand in deciding. Do not justify your objection using the rest of the sixteen from Ramdal! They will be accompanied by some from Nan-Tathren who are ready to depart this land. Besides, the journey we have made from home is going to make the coming one to the Bay of Balar feel like a walk in the fields. I have the utmost confidence that each will reach the coast safely. Now, will you reveal where it is that Laerlin has pointed you to go?”

Eliniel was quiet, unsure of how to take this turn of events. “Doriath,” she answered in the end.

Tûon looked thoughtful. “I can see reasons for such a choice. I have to point out that there is a flaw, for the destination brings us all much closer to the darkness. But I guess there are worse places to be in. May I ask why Doriath?”

She shrugged. “I have asked myself that question many times. I cannot see beyond the obvious reasons both of us suspect, though I desperately hope that this will not be the end of Beleriand. If naneth has another reason to direct me there, I wish I knew. For most of spring, I had feared that my resolve to follow this path would waver. But today, I have found my conviction.” Her gaze met Tûon’s and she found trust in his eyes.

“Very well, we shall proceed as I had planned. We will be going to Doriath with you and you will accept our company,” he said.

Eliniel felt gratitude swell in her heart. “Are you sure this is the course that you and the others wish to take?”

“Are you?” asked Tûon in return with a gentle smile.

Just then, the main door closed and they could hear footsteps approaching the hall. “Adar, all is in place. They can choose to leave Nan-Tathren at any time,” called out Belron.  
When he saw Eliniel, he broke into a wide grin. “Judging by your brow knitted with that tinge of worry, both of our plans must have been found out by each other!”

The elf-maiden huffed slightly in annoyance. Although she loved Belron endearingly, his light-hearted temperament sometimes grated her nerves, especially when he chose to jest with her when they were growing up. “Belron, this is hardly a journey to consider so fleetingly after all that we have been through since home,” said Eliniel.

Belron drew a chair next to her and his expression was honest. “You have considered your path and I have done the same with mine, with all my heart and sense,” he said as he reached out a hand to touch her cheek. Then a twinkle returned to his eyes, “Look at it this way, Faeveren- with us, you might be able to survive longer.”


	8. Chapter 8

A fortnight after Midsummer’s day, all but four people from Ramdal had set forth for the south, leaving Nan-Tathren quiet after a spirited spring. Now a few days later, Eliniel and Hareth were standing within the compounds of their temporary home, running a last check of their light baggage strapped on two horses.

Dawn was on the brink of the horizon, marking their time to depart. However, Tûon and Belron were nowhere in sight yet.

“Are you ready?” asked Eliniel.

“As ready as I will ever be. We are more prepared for this journey than we ever were for our sneaking about last time,” returned Hareth as they shared a moment of laughter.

“Those adventures barely took us away for more than a day from home. Yet the wrath we have suffered were as if we had traversed to Ossiriand and back!” said Eliniel fondly.

“The price of an adventure,” Hareth mused. Turning to her friend, she asked, “Are you rested, Faeveren?”

Eliniel sniffed. “The nightmares are not as often anymore, yet they are not entirely gone either. I sometimes feel as if I am getting used to them and that terrifies me too.’  
‘But I must admit that my dreams are not always dark. Usually before I relive the horror of that night, I find myself in another vision where I am seeing through the eyes of a little girl. There is another, her father perhaps, with whom I share a moment so filled with joy that I feel as if my heart would burst. I know his face so well when I am dreaming, but it eludes me when I am awake. I cannot fathom why this vision follows me.”

“But you are somehow grateful to it. Otherwise the nightmares would have driven you mad,” finished Hareth as she gave Eliniel a small hug. “Look! They are here.”

Tûon and Belron appeared around the corner, also leading two burdened steeds. Sharing a nod, they vaulted their horses and began their journey to the north. As Eliniel exited the village, she looked back and silently bade this sanctuary farewell, hoping, even though she knew that she would likely never return.

Their route kept them alongside the river Sirion. The willow trees of Nan-Tathren gradually gave way to rolling fields as the day wore on, a reminder that they have left the safety of cover. This side of Beleriand was mostly quiet according to Tûon, for it occasionally received the patrols of bold marchwardens from Doriath and Nargothrond.

The weather grew warmer in the days of their slow, cautious journey across a lush land. Ahead of them, the Andram hills rose into sight like a long, grey ribbon draped across a green landscape. On their right, the current of the mighty Sirion grew stronger as they approached farther inland.

It was on their fifth day when the small company saw the gaping maws on the face of the Andram ranges at last. “Here lies the Gates of Sirion,” said Tûon as the others looked on in awe. “We will stop here today and grant the horses some rest before we take the trail over these hills. The river flows for three leagues beneath the Andram.”

“What lies beyond?” asked Hareth.

“We will come to the thunderous Falls of Sirion where you can touch the rainbows and get lost in the mist,” answered Belron with a wink. “After that lies the sprawl of Aelin-Uial.”  
“Once we are there, we may want to steer clear of the western side. That section of marshlands is more difficult to navigate through,” said Tûon.

Eliniel frowned in recollection. “That means our path would take us to the edge of the Region forest. We would be in the kingdom of Doriath by then,” she said.

Tûon glanced in her direction. “One can only hope that we would be allowed passage into Region. I have never ventured beyond Aelin-Uial in central Beleriand, though I believe we would already be inside the borders of King Thingol’s land by the time we pass over these hills. We could well be watched by then,” he said. Then with a shrug, added, “At least the eyes would be friendlier than orcs.”

They made camp quickly and allowed themselves only the barest of comfort that evening. Rumours were long prevalent that orcs did not dare come close to Sirion, for Ulmo’s power was still felt upon this mighty river. But the small party took no chances as Belron headed the first watch.

Eliniel went to tend the horses, her heart stirring at the sound of the rushing currents. Tûon came later to help unload some of the horses’ burden, and they worked under the serenading light of a full moon.

“If such is the music of a great river, the orchestra of the sea must be grand,” commented Eliniel in a moment of reprieve.

Her question brought a joy most uncommon to Tûon’s face. “It is grand indeed, and I have always failed to find the words to aptly describe how beautiful it is. The ocean’s symphony may comfort you, lure you even, into the depths of dreams. Then on some days, the waters remind you that it could still be powerful and dark.”

“You must miss it,” said Eliniel.

“When you have lived by something for so many years, time away only proves how strongly you feel towards it…or someone. You were too young then to pay any heed to the sea let alone decide to love it,” he answered. Tûon smiled when he saw her puzzled expression. “Do you remember nothing about it?” 

Eliniel frowned. “If I had indeed seen the great waters in the west, then my memory is short-changing me. You know that I retain only one memory from my very young elfling days.”

And it was a vividly clear one. Eliniel could still remember the smoke and the urgency of escape. The frightening sounds could not be blocked out no matter how much she had buried her face against Laerlin. The people around them had worn such expressions of terror. Then, there was a blast so loud and hot, she could feel the heat whenever she conjured the memory. 

“Perhaps you do not recall it, but I have always thought of you as a most inquisitive child. I do wonder why you have never asked your mother how and where we came to know one another?” asked Tûon.

Eliniel sighed. “I am afraid there are things that naneth rarely permits me to ask her or even you, a lot about. Obviously, one of them is why I must obey her prohibition on wandering away from Ramdal alone,” she said with quiet amusement. “The second is of my father who was taken by the enemy, like so many sons from other families. She hardly wants to speak about her life before we first came to Nan-Tathren. Those years seem to grieve her much, but from glimpses, I know we came to the village from central Beleriand, seeking refuge since our previous home was sacked. I have always known you as a soul naneth count most blessed to have with us in our flight.”

“Laerlin thinks too highly of me,” said Tûon.

“Then you must also consider me as another fool!” laughed Eliniel. “I cannot imagine growing up without your presence. Now you have revealed that you do know more! Will you tell me?”

“Alas! Faeveren, I may only know a little more than you. It is true that Laerlin and I had our paths entwined during the journey to Ramdal, although that was perhaps counted as the third time,” began Tûon as he took a seat on a boulder.

“You see, when I was younger and the sun had not yet arisen, I had served under your grandsire in Eglarest. He loved me like his own son since I was orphaned after Dagor-nuin-Giliath. For many years, I had rejoiced by the sea, soaking in everything that the sea-elves would teach me. I knew Laerlin when she was born into the family but my enthusiasm for ship lore and for travel had frequently took me away from home. She of course, had eventually went in search for her own fate. We did not see each other for many centuries after that.’

‘But Dagor Aglareb had brought her back to Eglarest under a thick veil of fear. Laerlin had you in her arms, and how she begged your grandparents to remove from the city, saying that unrest was nigh! I believe they thought her stretched beyond consolation at first. Then after a night of counsel, your grandsire Veryan, had relented at last, thus allowing Laerlin to choose her own course.’

‘Not long after that, he came to me with a request. I could sense the reluctance he had borne although upon hindsight, Veryan had very limited choices. You and I know where you have inherited that headstrong trait from, Faeveren!”

Eliniel laughed. “I wish I could deny it. So, what did grandfather ask of you?”

The elf stared out to the great waters gushing from the Gates of Sirion. “He had asked for what any helpless father would,” Tûon continued.

‘”My dear Tûon,” he had said. “What I am about to ask of you is monumental. You may never fully know the reason, for I am not the one at liberty to reveal the truth, if what I have understood is all of it. Perhaps one day, Laerlin may disclose it to you but until then, let me speak plainly- my daughter wishes to journey east with her child in search of a safer place. We know such places exist only on borrowed time now that rumours of peril are abound. Alas! My consent cannot be retracted. With your knowledge of Ennor, will you guide her as far as you are willing? She wishes to depart immediately, and we will follow her soon enough despite her judgement that our haste is inadequate. Consider this well, my foster son, yet be assured that I will bear you no ill-will should you refuse me.”’

‘I had weighed the request overnight. It was a small asking compared to what Veryan has given me. If you are wondering, nay, I have never regretted my decision to leave Eglarest, for my heart tells me that I shall eventually return to my beloved white shores.’

‘And so we arrived in Nan-Tathren, which oddly became too crowded for Laerlin after a while. That was why we had eventually gone to Ramdal. Surely my younger, wandering self had not expected to settle in that quiet village, but I was so enamoured by the most beautiful being I have ever laid eyes upon. I hope Elbereth has guided her safely to the Halls of Awaiting.”

Eliniel took the story in, merging it with her own memories. “I remember her grace and heart. She was indeed beautiful,” she said. “Has the truth been revealed to you, Tûon?”

He shook his head in reply. “Even now, I believe Laerlin holds the entire truth. She had always managed to thwart my curiosity away so skilfully despite the innumerable efforts I had made to discover the tale,” answered Tûon. “Only once did she tell me that her life was wrenched away. In that very brief recollection, I saw a sorrow so deep in her eyes that I never dared to trespass upon her privacy again. If the truth is mine to know, then one day I shall.”

“We both shall never know then,” Eliniel sighed. “I wish I had asked her why I shouldn’t depart to my grandparents’.”

“I have no doubt that Laerlin had proffered the same advice of Doriath to them. But I know Veryan’s heart will find it difficult to forsake the ocean. When the fight is over, you can choose to return to them,” said Tûon with a smile.

Eliniel exhaled. “Fear sears my courage. What if my decision this time is wrong?”

“If you were never wrong, my child, how could you ever gain the wisdom to know what is right? Perhaps there is some good to be found at the end of this journey,” answered Tûon as he kissed her brow and made to return to camp. “Think no further of it,” he called over his shoulder. “We are halfway there, after all.”


	9. Chapter 9

Belron lifted his hand to signal a halt. He indicated to the front of him where the forest opened into a meadow. One of the many web strands of Aelin-Uial intersected it. A lone buck was bent towards the cool waters, quenching its thirst.

Hareth and Eliniel unlimbered their long bows. Stealthily, they split ways, each making for the edge of the oak tree forest, forming a three-point net with Belron in between.

It was a day after the small party had descended from the Andram ranges. Tûon seemed a lot more at ease in their current location and had declared that there was no better place to refill some of their rations. “It is not too far now. The tip of Region is about four leagues away. I recall that game is abundant here,” he had said.

Hareth drew her bow and Eliniel mirrored her from across the way. Taking aim, the latter noted the gentle wind now blowing in from the northeast. The buck suddenly looked up, its ears perked. Muscles in its hind legs tensed.

‘It knows,’ thought Eliniel just as Hareth’s arrow sailed out from the forest line. The buck moved, narrowly escaping the hit which pierced the ground inches away from its hooves. The animal bolted, a mere second after Eliniel had redirected her aim and loosed the shot. The shaft plunged into the buck’s shoulder, striking it to the ground.

As their prey struggled to get to its feet, Belron ran towards the riverbank, his hunting knife in hand. Bowing his head to the animal, he whispered his gratitude to it and swiftly ended its distress.

“Not a bad aim, Faeveren,” said Belron when the other two approached the river. He deftly tied the buck’s hooves and heaved it over his shoulder.

“It did catch our scent, otherwise Hareth would have taken it down with her first shot,” replied Eliniel.

“Well, even if we were not fortunate with this one, there will be plenty more game in this area. Not even you can terrify them all away,” said Belron with a wink.

Eliniel looked heavenwards in exasperation. “Remind me again Hareth, on why I put up with him?”

Hareth laughed. “Deep down, you know that he is a good-hearted soul who means well and who looks out for you,” she answered. Belron beamed and feinted a bow at them. Hareth playfully swatted the back of his head. “But you could do her a favour by behaving better! Have you not tire of tormenting our poor Eliniel here?”

“Have you tire of the sun? Then my answer is likewise- no,” returned Belron. The elf-maidens shook their heads with a smile. The three of them made their way back to camp, listening to the rustle of the forest and the intermittent chirps of birds obscured by the lush oak heads now adorned with a breath of summer.

“May I ask you both a question that has been riddling my heart?” asked Eliniel.

Hareth raised an eyebrow. “Of course! What is it?”

“Why have you decided to come to Doriath with me?”

Belron and Hareth glanced knowingly at each other and shared a smile. “We were hedging on when you would voice this question to us,” said the former. “Well, I mean what I had said to you back in Nan-Tathren, dear Faeveren. I have considered this journey well. Ramdal has and always will be a special place to me although I cannot deny that I find it too quiet sometimes. Bless and blame my father for evoking the wanderlust in me!’

‘The Bay of Balar is so familiar to my eyes but Doriath! Now that curiosity is strong. Perhaps, if we are admitted into the kingdom, I would seek the chance to learn something from their warden host.”

Eliniel turned to look at him. “Are you thinking of becoming someone like them?”

“More often lately,” replied Belron, his tone thoughtful. “After seeing our home razed to the ground, I have no wish to ever be in that same defenceless state again. I remember very well the day father and I went looking for survivors- There were too many whom we had to abandon. If I can forbid another such day, then I will do what it takes. What about you, Hareth? What swayed your heart away from the sea?”

Hareth gently linked her arms with Belron and Eliniel. “I have spent my entire life in Ramdal but your families have gotten me intrigued with what lies beyond the village. Your parents have taught me much, and I feel that I can do more than what an idyllic village can demand. So how can I let you both forsake me while you go on to discover Beleriand?’

‘But do not think me naïve! I am not so deluded to think that the road will always be pleasant. Yet, who knows if I might find my purpose on this journey? Besides, no one else would know how to mind you, and surely who better to stand between you two when the righteous Belron and the adamant Faeveren decides to chafe each other?”

The three erupted in laughter just as they arrived at their camp. Tûon eyed them curiously but resigned himself with a shake of his head and a knowing smile. They risked a small fire that night and had the first warm meal since leaving Nan-Tathren.

Later, when Eliniel laid her head down to rest, she asked and thanked fate for its kindness. Searching the black vault of night sky studded with stars, she prayed to Elbereth that Doriath held whatever her mother wished her to find.

 

 

It felt like mere moments after her eyes had closed that Eliniel found herself in a place that was an endless dark void. She stumbled around in disorientation, having neither sound nor movement as a reference. She could feel alarm gradually rising in her heart.

Then she saw something. It started as a pinhole which slowly widened into a splinter of ghostly glow on the abstract floor. Eliniel moved towards it, filled with apprehension. By the time she reached it, the splinter had formed into a small basin of flickering light.

Peering into it, Eliniel glimpsed a village being consumed by roaring flames. Looking closer at the faces of the people, the realisation made her blood run cold. Hypnotised by the unfolding horror, a hideous orc suddenly burst forth from the gaping hole and seized her by her dark hair. Eliniel tried to scream but felt her lungs deflate.

She jerked awake and found a hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes searched wildly in the night and found Belron instructing her to stay still. Hareth was crouching near the firepit, now buried into the earth.

“Orcs,” mouthed Belron as he removed his hand. Soundlessly, Eliniel sat up and reached for her bow.

Belron paused before indicating to the two elf-maidens to mount their steeds. Eliniel has learnt the hard way on how to distinguish the presence of orcs, and she could sense them perilously close to their camp. But there was also another unfamiliar air among the enemy.

They tried their best to soothe the nervous horses while Belron remained still, listening intently for movements around them. After a minute, he quickly mounted his horse and turned their course north. “Adar has led them away. There are wargs and orcs prowling this land! We ride to Region now! He will join us soon, I hope,” he said to his two companions.

The three took off, the sound of hooves ill-disguised in the night. They saw nothing along the river, in front or behind them for close to two leagues until a rhythmic pounding reverberated forebodingly from the forest on their right.

Reflexively, each of them drew their weapons. Then suddenly, Tûon burst forth from the shadows, his horse and himself winded from their flight.

“We move now at speed, they are very close! Keep your eyes open, these wargs are cunningly swift,” he said.

Needing no other warning, they barrelled onwards to the borders of Doriath. The route blurred away in their speed. Then, Eliniel’s heart clenched in panic when she heard growls. Looking back, she saw a pack of six charging wargs, their orc riders shrieking battle cries as they slowly but surely caught up to them.

The four elven horses picked up their speed, racing towards the Region forest. They could see the dark line of holly trees that marked the kingdom’s boundary a mile away on the flat plain.

Desperately praying that they would make it, Eliniel jolted in her seat when Belron’s horse suddenly collapsed beside her. Her mare veered away but she forcibly turned them around. Hareth did likewise and saw Tûon coming up to his fallen son.

“No!” he cried to the two elf-maidens. “Ride on to Doriath. Get help!”

Eliniel turned to Hareth, “You ride ahead! I will be right behind,” she said as she reached into her quiver.

“Faeveren!” Hareth protested.

“Go, Hareth!” Eliniel yelled back. She urged her mare forward, deftly loosening three arrows which hit the orc and warg approaching Belron. The enemy catapulted forward, creating a deep, long depression in the ground as they slid heavily towards the elf, stopping right before Belron just as he got to his feet.

Tûon drew his sword and charged into the fray, hewing down a rider before stabbing the blade into the warg’s maw. Pulling it out, he quickly parried the blow coming from his left side.

Near his father, Belron was engaged in a close range fight with an orc. A severed bestial head lay next to his mauled horse a few feet away. Eliniel looked around in consternation. Tûon was shouting at her to escape, yet she saw two more of the enemy charging from behind.

“Faeveren, run!” cried Belron. “What are you waiting for? Fly!”

Cursing, she nocked two more arrows, took aim and let her shots fly. Then tearing her sight away from the father and son, she turned course and set her heels to her mare.

But within a few gallops, Eliniel felt a brute force clamping down on her horse’s flank, throwing her balance off. Before she could regain her bearings, she was flung yards away.  
Eliniel heard someone scream her name. The pain that shot up her legs and ribs kept her conscious, and she could see Tûon dispensing all his arrows at the warg standing in between them. It bellowed with a rage that tore the night sky.

Quailing, Eliniel clambered to her feet only to fold back into a heap. One of her ankles was twisted. She heard a low growl and the cold ringing of a sword being drawn. With the warg’s back to her, she could see the creature coiled and ready to lunge at the waiting elf.

Just before the creature leaped, she detected movement behind Tûon. An orc, crippled by a missing arm, brought an axe down upon Tûon’s shoulder. The warg pounced and shook both of them like a rag doll between its jaws.

“No!” screamed Eliniel in horror. In that moment, she felt her head and hands burned like a brand and a powerful surge in the air swept the enemies violently into the shaking trees, their bodies crumpling with an ominous crunch. The orc poised above Belron was carried off and plunged into the river. The warg that held Tûon slammed into a boulder, the impact forcing it to release the broken elf. Blades of grass swirled with leaves chaotically across the plain.

Once the sudden surge ebbed away, the warg turned back to look at Eliniel. Panicking, she retreated on her hands and knees, eyes locked with the advancing creature. Its black eyes glinted maliciously in triumph. She could feel tears running down her cheeks. Her voice came out in whimpers.

Then the night suddenly echoed with the clear note of a horn. Arrows of gold fletching rained down in torrents upon the warg that stood feet away from her. Eliniel saw an elven company in full armour thundering down the plain.

They descended upon the battlefield like a flood, their sharp formative attack marred by a hint of awkwardness when they realised that it was peculiarly quiet. Many looked at the fallen bodies in puzzlement, until their leader shouted out several commands and half of the company rode out to scout the area. 

One of the riders dismounted and approached Eliniel. He inspected her foot, speaking softly to her, but soon realised that all her attention was turned towards a sole figure lying on the ground next to the speared beast. “Allow me help you up,” he said in the end.

A distraught Belron was already kneeling by his father’s side, his words shifting between pleas and assurances. Eliniel hobbled towards them with the aid of the rider, weeping.   
She reached out to take the wounded elf’s hand. “Tûon, no! Please don’t leave us,” she whispered to him. “I am so sorry, please stay. We have arrived in Doriath. You cannot go now, please! Eglarest still awaits your return!”

Tûon smiled despite labouring to draw breath. Slowly, he lifted both his hands to touch the cheek of his son and Eliniel. “And there I shall go, now that you are all safe,” he said softly to them. Then the light in his eyes went out.


	10. Chapter 10

Morning was lengthening. The rays from a red sun filtered through the evergreen forest. Suddenly, the way to Menegroth felt long. Everyone in the company was deathly silent after witnessing the events at the borders. 

Two matters perplexed the wardens of Doriath. First was the enemy’s brazenness to trespass this close to the kingdom. Then it was the phenomenon of gale winds that had descended upon the battlefield just before their arrival. All who believed in the power of Melian’s Girdle have always known its enchantments to confound, but not to inflict harm. To the marchwardens who had been on the field last night, this deviation could only be interpreted as an ominous warning. 

The other three rescued elves, however, were lost in an entirely different reflection. Hareth ruminated as she rode in the middle of the company, supporting Belron who has been weakened by a wound to his head. Eliniel, on the other hand, has already slumped into a morose daze since the last stone of Tûon’s cairn was laid down at the confines of Doriath.

Melian the Maia, also Queen of Doriath, watched the company’s passage as she stood upon the crown of Menegroth’s hill. She extended her might, slowly widening the Girdle’s inclusion of lands. It was through this power that she could sense the comings and goings of the kingdom, in addition to the black presence of the enemy when they lurked near the borders.

Last night, Melian had heard an intense cry of distress. When she had arrived at the lookout point, she saw a small band of wargs in close pursuit of four elves, but her marchwardens had been too far away. It grieved her that one was taken right before the doors of sanctuary. 

A southerly wind blew calmly across Doriath while the queen studied her young guests on their way to the citadel. After reading their hearts as true, she briefly felt an infinitesimal change in the breeze’s direction. A solid presence settled a few feet away.

Melian smiled. “Vëacolindo,” she greeted in the ancient tongue. “It has been some time since you last took form.”

“Melyanna,” the other greeted in return. “It is rare and strange to hear my old name spoken aloud after all this time.”

The queen laughed. “You must have been in Beleriand for as long as I have. Very well, I will call you as the elves do, Gwaewcol. It is good to see you.”

“Sadly, we are not meeting on the best of days.”

“Then why have you come today?” 

Gwaewcol turned to look at her, an eyebrow raised in question. “I thought you would have known my business since the day you described my occasional presence in Doriath and its timing as always being purposeful,” he said.

“And your visits are always so discreet,” added Melian. She tilted her head in consideration. “I could hazard a guess for you being here, though I feel that I could be mistaken this time. Tell me then, my good brethren, why does this group of elves interest you?”

“Did you witness what occurred at the borders earlier?”

Melian nodded once. “Was that your doing?”

“Nay, it was her deed alone.”

She glanced at Gwaewcol. Then she quickly returned her gaze to the three survivors, finally lingering on a particular dark-haired elf-maiden who was approaching Menegroth’s gates with the others. “She has our blood,” Melian said at last. “Yet, I cannot truly tell if she is one of yours.”

Gwaewcol remained quiet, his eyes fixed upon the moving group. “There was a fleeting moment in my existence where I had an encounter so wonderful yet bittersweet. Illuvatar had given me three beautiful children and an extraordinary wife, each of whom I love so dearly. But fate, as is its nature, eventually tore us asunder,” he said softly, his voice filled with sorrow.

Melian touched Gwaewcol’s arm with empathy and read his tale under the clement sky. “It does not seem to be our destiny to linger long in Ennor. Even my time to depart will come one day,” said Melian. Then she turned to look at Eliniel. “Her strength is faint. Are you here for her?”

“She is part of my purpose, but for me to achieve it now depends on one crucial condition which, unfortunately, already disfavours me,” replied Gwaewcol. “Her mother had protected her very fiercely for noble reasons, and because of that, she barely remembers me. I am now at a loss, for how can I return a life to someone who knows me only as a stranger? What more when that life is of different bloods?” 

Melian surveyed the golden horizon around them and her face suddenly lit up. “Perhaps,” she answered, “Your daughter could relate to someone else a little better. Do you not see your hope riding in from the west?”

Gwaewcol turned his eyes toward that direction. Then he beamed, “Yes, there is one who remembers us all, and he would never let a hope slip away,” he said. But his smile faltered a little. “And so the pieces shall start to fall, but will they fall in the right place? I have risked their lives before, Melian, and I wished not to do it again.” 

The queen of the kingdom held the other Maia’s hand. “Gwaewcol, we can at least assure that the beginning will be promising. You are, after all, in Doriath,” said Melian. 

His eyes met hers and she could see the light ignite within them. “Indeed I am,” he said. “Thank you, Melian.”


	11. Chapter 11

It was not long after the end of Dagor Bragollach when Idhrenol had been summoned to undertake a mission. He had suspected an enormity to the task when he was called into a closed council to receive his orders. It had seemed that following the ill-news brought by Nargothrond’s northern marchwardens, the resulting council debates had given Finrod Felagund a foresight so ominous that he did not wish to share it aloud twice. Yet, the specifics of Idhrenol’s mission had soon prompted the captain to see what his lord could not say. 

“Only you and at most, another of your trusted will know that your emissaries hasten to Doriath under the pretence of goodwill. You must warn our neighbouring kingdom of the foreboding ripples that may soon engulf both our realms. Relay my counsels only to Thingol! But if it becomes truly unavoidable, then his highest assembly may hear them as well.’  
‘I ask for you to exact the utmost caution in this mission. It is imperative that you never forget that we are dealing with Doriath. Not only has this ancient realm survived the rises and falls in Beleriand, it has also flourished above the tides of time.’  
‘Lord Sedryn, I have chosen you because I believe that the honour which you are rightfully known for will not fail Nargothrond. Despite my kinship to that kingdom, we cannot take for granted that their king still holds varying degrees of suspicion against those who are not a Sindar,” Finrod had said. Idhrenol knew well the events that had catalysed this regrettable impression.

It had begun the day the Noldor returned unlooked for to Beleriand from the West. Their arrival had displeased Thingol and also made him suspect a dire cause driving their return because he sensed disquiet among those people. Doriath had then gradually denied admittance to the Noldor save Finrod and his siblings who are bonded to Thingol by blood through the Royal House of Finarfin. 

Over time, however, whispers had betrayed dark secrets. Thingol eventually came to learn about the heinous Kinslaying where his own brethren in the West had been slaughtered and robbed off their ships by the Noldor for use to come to Beleriand. Outraged, he had confronted Finrod and his siblings who later relinquished the truth- that the evil deed had been instigated by Fëanor, his sons and their followers.

After listening to the full tale, Thingol’s heart had cooled and he forgave all but the House of Fëanor, for their deeds were too fell. From that moment, the king of Doriath had decreed that the language of the Noldor would no longer be spoken or heard again in Beleriand. 

Doriath presently remained cordial with most of the Noldorin governed realms around them although its relationship with Nargothrond was perhaps the most sincere. But this time, for this impending matter, none in Nargothrond dared to speculate their odds.

As the light cavalry of ten continued their journey from Nargothrond, Idhrenol scanned the vast landscape with a keen eye. He could sense the fate of Beleriand darkening. Before the siege of Angband was broken, the land had flourished in all its glorious colours each season. But now, it was not unusual to see carrions and columns of smoke marking the crimes of the enemy in the horizon. Also, he could not help rueing how so few of his visits to neighbouring kingdoms were with the bearing of good tidings. _‘Alas! Nargothrond is no lesser entwined in all this chaos. The climate at home has already become stranger,’ _he thought.__

__When the Pass of Sirion’s defence had crumbled in Dagor Bragollach, Minas Tirith was overrun by wolves within a day. Orodreth had fled to Nargothrond with the aid of Celegorm and Curufin. Finrod had welcomed these two sons of Fëanor out of gratitude because he knew that without them, Orodreth and what was left of his kin would have been slain mercilessly at the hands of Sauron. Admittedly, the two brothers had also proved their use to the kingdom since their coming, aiding Finrod Felagund in some of the needs and state affairs of Nargothrond._ _

__The two brothers have no doubt inherited the gift of orating from their father, for their words reflected the passions that they felt, and these in turn have swayed the hearts of some people. Their influence had grown at an unnerving rate and this has created a fissure that many seemed afraid to admit was deepening.  
Idhrenol found it incredible that Celegorm and Curufin have managed to win the esteem of Nargothrond’s citizens so easily, for it appeared as if their sinister deeds in the past have been forgiven and counted for nothing. Their followers still swore allegiance to Finrod but to Idhrenol, it was peculiar how some of these groups were beginning to identify themselves._ _

__“Lord Sedryn,” called a voice. Idhrenol quickly returned his thoughts to the present. They were approximately a league away from the Meres of Twilight where hidden ferries transported messengers between Nargothrond and Doriath. From the edge of his sight, Idhrenol could see sentries moving amongst the woods, flanking his group of elves.  
“They are far from their post,” remarked his second-in-command._ _

__“Yes, Legrin. This is unusual,” replied Idhrenol. In the distance, the chief marchwarden of Doriath, Beleg Cúthalion, was riding towards them. “Unusual indeed,” he muttered as he spurred his horse forward._ _

__“Hail, Lord Beleg,” greeted Idhrenol when their distance closed in. “Has our arrival removed you from the northern borders?”_ _

__Beleg smiled and grasped Idhrenol’s forearm in greeting. “Lord Sedryn,” he welcomed. “It is good to have you back. Let us head to the city together.”_ _

__The cavalry was astutely ushered onto the ferries and the journey continued in silence. Sensing the exhibition to be uncharacteristically restrained, Idhrenol went to stand at the prow next to Beleg. “I have to admit, my friend, that the unease among your elves is very apparent. Has something happened here?”_ _

__Beleg turned to look at him. “We found the enemy in our borders a fortnight ago. We shall speak further of it when time permits, Sedryn.”_ _

__Idhrenol nodded in comprehension. “Tell me then,” Beleg continued on a lighter note. “What news of Nargothrond?”_ _


	12. Chapter 12

Eliniel was sitting quietly by herself on the now familiar beach. She dug her little toes into the fine sand and wiggled them, amused by how real it all felt. The breeze was tinged with salt. She inhaled deeply, wishing just for a moment, that she could lose herself in their liberating flutter.

Time seemed irrelevant although Eliniel knew that at some point, the same elf she encounters in this recurring dream will appear. No matter how much she tried to memorise his voice, face and scent, all of these details somehow evaporated in her waking hours. Eliniel had come to name him Glaison, for the one thing that was certain was the joy she always saw reflected in his bright eyes.

Feeling the impatience beginning to rise, she averted her gaze from the spellbinding waves to look around. But there wasn’t another soul along the stretch of beach.

“Looking for me, little one?”

Eliniel looked up behind her and saw Glaison bending down to scoop her into his arms. She could not help bursting into peals of laughter when he playfully spun both of them in dizzying pirouettes. The little Eliniel settled comfortably into his embrace, letting the happiness engulf her heart.

Together, they walked along the shoreline, occasionally chasing the surf. Further on, she espied the same graceful descent of Thorongil from the sky to perch upon Glaison’s other arm. As the eaglet folded its expansive wings and she was taught its name, Eliniel braced herself for the dream to dissolve into the usual, haunting nightmare.

“Would you like to feel the feathers, Eliniel?”

She blinked, astonished that the vision remained. Even more shocking was how this elf has just called her name. Eliniel glanced from Glaison’s gentle gaze to the eaglet, warily eyeing the curve of its sharp beak. But its eyes showed no menace.

The little elfling tentatively reached out a hand to stroke its nape. The feathered creature moved its head closer to her touch, causing Eliniel to giggle. “Thorongil,” she said, the syllables rolling slowly around her tongue. 

Glaison smiled. “Dearest sister, I think both of you will be good friends,” he said. “Thank you, son of Thorondor, for being our eyes. We shall meet again soon.” Then with a slight push, the eaglet took flight.

The two of them continued their walk, the beach gradually fading into a tree-lined pathway that led to a beautiful town located in a shallow valley near the feet of mountains. Broad pavements of white wound around the various sandstone buildings that were arrayed on manicured grounds. The silvern splashing of the town’s large fountain echoed rhythmically in the air.

Eliniel looked around in wonder. Fine latticework adorned the balconies while polished arches leaped along and across the many stairways that linked the buildings. Bells towers circled the town, their heights surpassing some of the trees that grew around them.

Glaison, with Eliniel in his embrace, walked up a short flight of stairs to a door which the elf opened. Once inside, they were in a corridor of pale blue illuminated by the skylights above. A muffled voice from within the house called out a name and Glaison answered. He set Eliniel down and she ambled along the hallway, passing by other small rooms. The dwelling was modest yet felt so reassuring to her.

As she padded into the main hall, she saw a tall, large window ahead. It was gilded with bronze on its exterior borders and dark green vines with vibrant red flowers have weaved itself around this intricate metalwork. Distracted by the sights on and outside the window, Eliniel, who had turned to her left suddenly halted in a lurch. A few feet away stood another elfling.

Eliniel smiled and it was mimicked in return. She took a step forward and so did the other. Slowly, she approached but once they were close enough to touch, a ripple echoed across the scene and it faded away.

Eliniel opened her eyes. In the warm room lit by a dim light, she quickly recalled her dream. The beach she now knew very well but the town, the house, the hallway and the brightness were surely slipping away. Quickly, she reached further into the recesses of her mind but could not stir a memory beyond the curve of Glaison’s lips when he smiled. _‘Why are faces so difficult to detail?’ _she thought. _‘There was a name, too. And he knew mine!’ _____

____Frustrated, Eliniel climbed out of bed and propped herself at the edge, gingerly letting her weight fall on her twisted foot. More than a fortnight has passed now, and though she had suffered worse, this injury was the more vexing one. She got ready and stepped out of the homely guest chambers into the mesmerizing landscape outside._ _ _ _

____Despite the circumstance that has brought her here, there wasn’t a day that Eliniel was immune towards Menegroth’s beauty. The day she had passed through the kingdom’s gates, accessible only by a single bridge on a hill, she was awed by the grandness of the courtyard that could hold many a thousand in muster and how all of it was replicated within the stronghold again. Once inside, various paths disappeared into the depths and heights of Menegroth under decorated archways flanked by rich banners._ _ _ _

____She had discovered, in days of slow exploration, that forges lined the lower levels of this underground stronghold, their heat cooled by waters channelled in from the river Esgalduin. Innumerable stations, chambers and halls of many sizes were built above these and as the storeys extended upwards into the hill, cunning stonemasonry allowed natural light to stream in._ _ _ _

____From her guest quarters, the elf-maiden entered the multi-hued road that connected everything in the kingdom. From lamps lit with a golden light, she saw the great pillars that stood all around Menegroth. Each had been hewn into the likeness of beeches to hold the ornate ceilings where sculpted figures of birds and beasts peered reclusively from behind delicate carvings of flora. She passed fountains that tittered musical notes of tranquillity. Tapestries of exquisite craftsmanship adorned the walls and spoke of stories that Laerlin used to tell Eliniel when she was a child._ _ _ _

____Taking a turn, Eliniel made her way to Belron who was in the healing houses of Menegroth. Hareth and herself were taking turns to look in on him although neither has had the chance to speak with their friend since that tragic day. Belron had hidden more grievous wounds from the ambush of that night, rendering him to the relentless care of the kingdom’s healers. He was on the mend until last week when a fever had seized him. Each night, Eliniel prayed for him to be spared from the clutches of death._ _ _ _

____At the door, she met a cheerful Hareth who was bearing a full tray. “Is he awake?” she asked, her heart elated and yet anxious._ _ _ _

____Hareth beamed. “He came around sometime in the night. Here, why don’t you bring him this?” Noticing the expression on Eliniel’s face, she kissed her forehead and said before leaving, “Do not look so worried. He does wish to see you, Faeveren. Allow your heart to be set free.”_ _ _ _

____Eliniel drew a deep breath before entering the room. She found Belron sitting in a chair near a window that allowed some sunlight to stream into the chamber. His eyes were closed and upon his face, she saw a sadness that was now permanently etched upon his brow. Eliniel felt the emotions within her lashing violently against the ford she had erected in her mind._ _ _ _

____As she neared, Belron’s eyes opened to meet hers. The storm that was in them stabbed at her heart. He stayed silent as he watched her place the tray down before him.  
Eliniel gathered all her remaining resolve and went to kneel by his side. “I am very sorry, Belron,” she began. “If there is anything that I can do to turn the times back, I will have no second thoughts. And should you wish to sever your life away from mine, I will truly understand, for the tears I shed can never undo what I have done wrong. If you can forgive me…” Her words trailed off. “If you ever. I am really sorry.” _ _ _ _

____She stood up to leave but Belron suddenly reached out to take her hand. “It was not your fault that we came on this journey with you for that was our own choice. Neither can you be blamed for the ambush when those of us who are better-travelled take for granted the safety of a familiar place. There is nothing to forgive, Faeveren. You should not bear the guilt for I feel that it would be undeserved. Please stay,” he said softly, his hand still around her wrist._ _ _ _

____“Regardless, my words had to be said, Belron, even though they may be out of selfishness. I know it can neither negate the calamity nor assuage your distress but I do not know what else I can do,” replied Eliniel as she returned his touch._ _ _ _

____Belron sighed. “I have seen death though I must admit that none of them have stung me worse than adar’s. But seeing your strength after Laerlin’s passing gives me faith because I know that like yourself, I can someday heal.”_ _ _ _

____Eliniel felt tears stinging her eyes. Reaching over, she circled her arms around Belron and laid her head on his shoulder. They each smiled faintly and shared a long moment in comforting silence._ _ _ _

____“Would you like something from the tray?” Eliniel asked at last._ _ _ _

____“Need you ask me, knowing that I have had nothing for two weeks?” Belron returned with a quiet laugh._ _ _ _

____At the end of the meal, Belron settled back in his chair, gingerly patting the thick bandages around his torso. He looked out of the window, a faraway expression in his eyes. “Faeveren, I do not doubt that that day is still clear to you. Do you know what had actually happened when the gale winds suddenly swept over us?”_ _ _ _

____Eliniel froze, feeling a chill run down her spine. There wasn’t a day that passed where she did not recall that night and moment. It was the strangest of sensations and for many days, she had wondered if it was the Girdle’s powers searching her soul for malice. She had asked a few residents of Doriath if this was a natural occurrence but the question was refuted. Some of the healers even gave her a worried look and insisted that she rest._ _ _ _

____“Did you feel your head and hands burn?” she asked him, since Hareth had denied it when Eliniel posed the same question to her._ _ _ _

____“Truthfully, my whole body felt like it was burning but that was probably from all the wounds,” answered Belron._ _ _ _

____“Well, the marchwardens have said that it might have been the queen’s protective enchantments around the realm.”_ _ _ _

____“We should be thankful,” said Belron thoughtfully. “If it hadn’t occurred, we could be having this conversation whilst sitting in the Halls of Awaiting right now.” After a while, he motioned for Eliniel to help him stand and walk towards the window._ _ _ _

____Warmth touched their faces as they looked out into the sea of evergreen hollies. Glimpses of the exterior courtyard showed the gathering of troops for the day patrol. “Belron, what are we to do now?” asked Eliniel._ _ _ _

____“We are here, so we might as well stay awhile if Doriath will have us. There may be a better life here after all that has befallen. Are you having doubts about your course?”_ _ _ _

____“I am at a crossroad,” sighed Eliniel. “We may have arrived at our destination but this journey, from the beginning in Ramdal until the present has been nothing short of unyielding. Each thrust to make us stronger has been dearly bought and I fear that this will cease to stop! Tûon told me at the Gates of Sirion that wisdom is also gained through mistakes, yet how does one keep a stout heart to face repeated failures? This place now overwhelms me with grief. I have doubts of whether I should stay on.”_ _ _ _

____Belron turned to her and gently brushed her cheek. “Where do you want to go, Faeveren?”_ _ _ _

____Eliniel thought of her grandparents in the Cape of Balar again. “Home,” she said at last._ _ _ _

____“And what does your heart say?”_ _ _ _

____Belron’s question caught her. “I don’t think…” she began._ _ _ _

____“Let us pretend for a moment that misgivings are mythical. What will your heart say?”_ _ _ _

____Eliniel paused. Not for the first time since arriving in Doriath, she searched for that voice in her soul, and chiselled through the thick crust of fear. In the end, her reply was a word._ _ _ _

____“Wait.”_ _ _ _

____Belron smiled at her answer._ _ _ _


	13. Chapter 13

Idhrenol casted a quick glance around the council chamber. A wide semi-circular room, its walls were decorated with carvings made straight into the living stone, depicting the rise of the Sindar in Doriath. Great stone mallorn trees held the ceiling aloft and many lamps of white light dangled upon long chains from the granite branches. Chairs lined the curve of the room, half of them filled by Thingol’s own high council.

The king himself sat upon a throne at the apex of the semi-circle, the seat next to him upon the dais left empty. Idhrenol stood nervously among the people. Not entirely a stranger to this room, he faulted the news he was about to impart for his uncharacteristic anxiousness.

“Welcome to Doriath, Lord Sedryn, let us begin right away. What tidings have you brought today that the highest order needs to convene?” asked the master of the council.

Idhrenol lowered his head in deference towards his audience and bowed to Thingol. “My lords, I fear the news I bring are not glad ones. As you would have known, Orodreth was forced to flee Minas Tirith after it was overtaken by the enemy. We have considered reclaiming it but the Lord of Nargothrond felt that our armies are still recovering from Dagor Bragollach and we cannot risk such open warfare yet.’  
‘Nonetheless, we have kept watch and since the last moon, our scouts have reported that a massing of orcs have begun in that fortress. We fear that this legion will soon trespass into West Beleriand and the Men of Brethil will be called to arms.”

“But that is the condition that Doriath has given them- they are allowed to stay in Brethil if they agree to defend the Crossings of Teiglin. This mustering you report is not unfamiliar to us for our own eyes have also brought the same word,” replied another in the audience.

“Then your scouts must have given you the enemy numbers. They will overwhelm the men,” said Idhrenol evenly.

“So, Nargothrond and Doriath will help them. You may return to assure your ruler that aid will arrive. We will watch the eastern roads and ensure that none shall cross into Dimbar while you do the same for the Pass of Sirion and Talath Dirnen. Our approach remains- Doriath will not march ahead to meet the fight but we shall defend our realm.”

Idhrenol felt discomfort creeping up his spine, a reminder that political diplomacy was not his favoured strength. “Forgive me, my lords. My king does not doubt your unwavering pledge for that is not the reason why he has sent me here today,” he answered. Looking straight into Thingol’s piercing grey eyes, he continued, “Lord Finrod Felagund wishes to let Doriath know that Nargothrond does not intend to join the battle…at least not at the Pass of Sirion.” 

A low murmur engulfed the hall. Some council lords began casting a torrent of questions while others turned to their neighbours to seek clarification for what they have just heard. The curiosity grew louder until the king raised his hand and silence swept the room.

“It seems unbecoming of my kin to abandon these Men in their hour of need. It was him, after all, who requested that I give them a home all those centuries ago. Now it seems like he wishes to let orcs stream freely into their lands. What is Finrod’s reason?” asked Thingol calmly.

Idhrenol saw his chance. “This choice was a difficult one for Lord Finrod to make because his options are truly very few. Although the reaches of Nargothrond extends up unto the feet of Ered Wethrin, my king appeals for Doriath to first stand beside Haldan’s people and then should the need arise, we behind you.”

The council room was still. “That is…unusual, Lord Sedryn,” someone in the council commented carefully.

“Yes, it does seem cowardly, let Nargothrond be the first to say it,” replied Idhrenol. “But my lord is reluctant to allow our forces at the front for the vote to assault this legion of orcs have been much championed by the lords Celegorm and Curufin.”

Quiet understanding swept the hall. The high council in Doriath were not ignorant of the political climate in Nargothrond. They also knew how much disfavour these two sons of Fëanor had garnered from Thingol himself.

“If we attack and the mission fails,” continued Idhrenol after a pause, “Nargothrond will suffer the consequences of a bleeding army. It is not a result that we would welcome but we have also considered the alternative. Should victory come, Lord Finrod also fears that this will further feed the power of the two brothers. It may not bode well for the Men eventually, as Brethil is a land of lease and they are small obstacles for the sons of Fëanor who have unpredictable regard for many things.”

The others turned to look at their king. Thingol kept his sharp gaze upon Idhrenol and made no response for a long time. Then he leaned forward and answered, “Brethil is a region of Doriath so we will protect it. I understand and empathise with what my kin has deduced; and I agree that the ripples of the aftermath will be felt by both our realms should the outcome be sour. But even Finrod must know that for Doriath to prevent Nargothrond from going to battle requires careful deliberation for it is still at the expense of my people. You will have our answer soon, Lord Sedryn.”

Idhrenol bowed to the council and Thingol. As he was about to exit the chamber, the king of Doriath said, “And thank you, and your lord for the honesty.”

The elf left the council room, relieved that this part of his orders was done. “Do not attempt to mask the truth from Thingol Greycloak for there is little that he does not see. Let us hope that he hears our side and gives us a favourable outcome,” Finrod had said to Idhrenol before he left Nargothrond. Now they all wait.

 

The dining hall was already dwindling in residents by the time Idhrenol entered it that evening. Small clusters of people sat at the rows of long tables, their laughter and debate echoing louder than usual. Food aromas from the earlier influx of residents mingled with the warmth of the hall. Firelight from the many hearths still danced merrily upon the foundations.

The elf found his other Nargothrond emissaries seated at the far end of the hall, joined by their friends from Menegroth. They welcomed him raucously, emptying a barrel of mead into rows of cups and enquired about his cause of tardiness.

Jests and mirth soon laced a reunion that began with customary exchanges of tidings, later leading on to plans during their stay in Doriath. Then as the night drew longer, each took their leave until two remained at the table.

Legrin stretched and downed the rest of his drink. “How did the council progress?” he asked.

“As well as it could go,” Idhrenol replied. “I do not think that disadvantageous decisions will be made if the relationship between Doriath and Nargothrond is any testament.”  
“Yet, we should be prepared,” completed Legrin. “How long are we to remain in Doriath this time, my lord?”

“Two months, at the latest,” replied Idhrenol. “It is not the best time to dwell so long away from home.”

“Very well,” said Legrin as he stood up. “I shall see you back at the barracks. I take my leave, Lord Sedryn.”

Idhrenol continued with his glass of wine, allowing the solitude to calm him after a long day. He heard his lieutenant’s voice in salutation at the doors of the hall before he gradually tuned out his surroundings. 

But a few moments later, he realised that there were footsteps approaching his way. Glancing towards that direction, Idhrenol saw a tall elf with command in his stride and a grace to his manner which seemed distantly familiar. 

The stranger smiled tentatively at him. Their gazes met and recognition beckoned at this newcomer’s light blue eyes. “Idhrenol,” he whispered.

Idhrenol stared with incredulity. Several heads in the hall turned to look at him as he suddenly started laughing despite himself. He swiftly got to his feet and embraced the other. “Adar!” Idhrenol whispered back. “I can hardly believe this!” Long-suppressed emotions of fear and loneliness welled up to mix with joy and relief. 

Gwaewcol returned the embrace. “I am truly before you, my eldest,” he said. “My old form was irretrievable and I had feared that this one would not allow you to distinguish me. Looks like I needn’t have worried. Ah, how I have waited for this moment!” Breaking the embrace, he touched his forehead to Idhrenol. “It is good to see you again, my son, and not from a distance!”

The younger elf recomposed his demeanour and quickly banished the sting in his eyes. He shook his head, partly chuckling to himself. “To think that after all these years, with what I have dreamt of saying to you, the questions that I wanted and needed to ask…now, nothing comes to mind!”

Gwaewcol laughed. “The steadfast Sedryn at a lost? What would the people think of their captain?” he said. “Oh, how wonderfully you and Amaron have grown over the years. I know they have not always been easy on you. Yet no one can dispute the strength you have shown.”

“That is only because very few have caught me without it. Fortunately, life did become better as time lengthened,” Idhrenol answered with a small smile. “I must admit that the early years could have and nearly broke me, especially when Amaron was still an elfling.” 

Idhrenol could feel the dark shadows hovering a distance away as he recalled those memories. The pain that has been long-buried surfaced as he tried to continue, the words now allowed to tumble freely before his father. “I could not tell anyone how alone I felt the day our family was ripped apart. How was my fate any worse than the other forlorn souls I had escaped with? Life had forced me to swallow all the bitterness it contained and the fear haunted me so obstinately. Sleep was impermissible to me for weeks! I knew vulnerability very well then and I shudder at the thought of ever meeting it again.”

Gwaewcol held his son’s shoulder. “I saw it too, Idhrenol, and I regret not being able to weather it with you. Do know that I have never doubted you. No matter how long it takes, I believe you will always find your way. You were born with a might that only shone brighter because of this blot of darkness in your life,” he assured.

Idhrenol squeezed his father’s hand in response. “I could not have survived without those who have shown me kindness and greater humility. I will gladly owe them my life, most especially Galadhon because he cared even though he did not need to, and he still does. I would not be who I am today without these people,” he said. “And thank Elbereth for Amaron who has never despaired with me! Good thing he wasn’t really an urchin growing up either. He was unlike my unruly, young self.”

“You had me then to stand beside you. But your brother did have his mischievous moments,” Gwaewcol remembered fondly. 

“Of course! Like the day I found out that he has inherited his gift. I still cannot decide if my shock was from him curing me or the later fear of being discovered.”

Both father and son shared the laughter. “What about the day you had found Amaron wandering around the rapids? I could feel your pulsing anger as you dragged him home.”

Idhrenol sighed at the memory. “I was livid. What if I had lost him forever that day?” he reflected. “I know not how you do it. Adar, was I too harsh on him before…and am I still?”

Gwaewcol shook his head. “That little one understands. He was always the one with an even temperament. Furthermore, that rebellious streak you have yourself believe to be quelled have somehow made you understand the needs of a growing elfling. If you were never once that young, adventurous and unruly one, Amaron might have grown up to be someone sheltered beyond salvation,” he replied as he poured them another round of drink. “I am very proud of you, Idhrenol. Forgive me for you do not deserve any of this hardship. You have done well in the thing neither Laerlin nor I could do.”

A pause fell between them at that mention and Idhrenol shifted in hesitation. “Have you seen naneth, adar?”

Gwaewcol did not meet his son’s gaze immediately. He peered into his cup and took a deep breath. “I have seen her every day since we parted, although, I did appear before her one last time, not too long ago. I was there to ask for her forgiveness and to walk with her to the Halls of Awaiting. I am sorry, my son, but your mother is no longer among you.”

Idhrenol sat back in his chair, letting the news sink in. Memories of him and Laerlin passed before his sight. He shut his eyes and allowed the sorrow to extinguish his years of hope that he would one day see her again alive. “Tell me,” he said to his father in the end.

“She had fled to the east and lived there for many years. Life was forgiving and generous in many ways until the village was attacked by orcs,” replied Gwaewcol. He casted a side long glance at Idhrenol who was about to say something. “Nay, I could not have intervened! All things have a course that only One knows entirely,” he continued. 

Idhrenol could see that his father was also letting the weight of that answer fall upon himself. “Laerlin died defending what was most precious to her.”

“Eliniel?” asked Idhrenol suddenly, whispering that name for the very first time in centuries. “Does she live?” Gwaewcol smiled and nodded.

“Do you know where she is?”

“In the safest place I know. Alas! she has very little memory of us, my son, for Laerlin had shielded her so well.”

Idhrenol took a deep breath and exhaled. “At least she is safe,” he said as he refilled their cups. He felt Gwaewcol watching him, causing colour to rise to his cheeks. He had almost forgotten how well his father knew him. 

“My lord, why are you here now?” asked Idhrenol. He still felt that something was amiss.

The Maia smiled. “I am here for a much needed task but I have also realised that it is one that I cannot accomplish alone. Will you help me for one last time?”

Idhrenol was surprised at the request. “Name it,” he replied.

Gwaewcol stood up. “Walk with me,” he said.

Together they made their way to the eastern wing of Menegroth. There, was a wide atrium held by giant beech pillars, their intricate carven heads romanticising the bright moonbeams illuminating the floor. Splashing from the grand bejewelled fountain echoed melodiously with the songs of nightingales. 

As Gwaewcol and Idhrenol came to a stop at an elevated terrace, they heard delighted laughter and chatter. Below, at the fountain steps sat Melian with her handmaids. The queen herself was weaving elanor flowers into the dark hair of another.

“Idhrenol, though you have never said it aloud, Amaron and I know that you have never given up hope on uniting our family. So let today mark the end of your search, for now you will be needed to guide another. But I believe that you shall not find this too burdensome,” said Gwaewcol as he looked upon the merry circle at the fountain.

Idhrenol followed his father’s line of sight and searched for his subject. Anticipation grew rapidly in his heart. The faces of the maidens were unknown to him save Melian’s. He scanned them again until his eyes were drawn to one who now turned to face him, her hair a garland of golden blossoms.

As if struck by a blow, Idhrenol took a step backwards. “Ai, Elbereth!” he gasped. It was a face he had tried to envision so many times, wondering how different she might look. She had the familiar, keen eyes but her affectionate smile seemed tainted by a deep sorrow.

Gwaewcol clasped his son’s shoulder, the smile of a proud father on his face. “She is beautiful. Heaven and earth can now be one and you, my son, will be the world harbouring them,” he said.

Idhrenol found it difficult to avert his gaze for fear that this whole evening was a dream about to unravel. He harked back to his last memories of his sister. “Are you going to free her, adar?” he asked.

His father seemed to reflect upon Idhrenol’s unexpected words. “Eventually, although she has broken some of her chains already,” Gwaewcol answered softly. Then gently, he steered them back to the corridor, striking down the path that will lead them to the barracks. “You will come to meet her in time. There are uncertainties in our task ahead. But now, at least, you share my hope.”

They walked along in silence. “You are not staying, adar,” said Idhrenol after a while. They both knew it was not a question.

“Alas! no,” he replied. “This return was only granted for a purpose. My time with you in this form has passed. Who knew that I could rue a duration too short when time should not matter to someone like me?” Gwaewcol shook his head at the irony. “Ah, but let us not taint what we have left with self-pity.”

“The second parting is not easier despite it being on better terms,” said Idhrenol. 

“Very few rarely are easy, my son. But you should know that my eyes are ever upon you, Eliniel and Amaron. I cannot promise you all that you may desire but you have my word that I will be there with your mother by my side at the breaking of the world,” said Gwaewcol as they came to a stop at the junction leading to the barracks.

Idhrenol turned to his father and smiled. “Adar, nearly four centuries ago, you had told me that if fate permits, you shall find me again. Your coming tonight has fulfilled that promise and at its heart, that is one of the few things that I most desire.”

Gwaewcol patted his son’s back. “You demand too little from me, Idhrenol Sedryn,” he said as they continued down the path.

 

__________

 

Eliniel gazed after the two elves walking away from the terrace. She had caught one of them looking at her with an expression of kindness, something that was different from the looks of startled wonder she and Belron have been receiving from some folk in Doriath.

“Who were they, my lady?” she asked Melian.

The queen only smiled, tucking away a stray lock of hair behind the elf-maiden’s ear. She did not even glance at the indicated direction. “They might be people fate sent to meet you,” Melian answered before dropping her voice to almost a whisper. “Perhaps you will soon discover why Laerlin had taught you to come to Doriath.”

Eliniel’s eyes widened in surprise but Melian quickly touched her fingertips to the elf’s lips. “In time, I promise.”

The Queen of Doriath looked at her so earnestly that Eliniel eventually held her tongue and swallowed her protest. “Patience, unfortunately, does not come easily to me, my lady,” she replied instead.

Melian smiled. “I know it is a difficult nature to you so I value your trust in my judgement,” she said. “How has Menegroth been to you? You do look more at peace in the last few days.”

“The darkest shadows upon my heart were lifted the moment I knew Belron was hale. But then, he went on to do more by holding me blameless for coming here,” answered Eliniel.  
“No one is to be blamed for what has happened out there, my child. Sometimes, one must learn how to forgive themselves,” returned Melian as she took the elf-maiden’s hand. “Perhaps one day, you might come to accept that.”

“One day,” echoed Eliniel sceptically. “I cannot truly lament my being here. The nightmares have stopped, only to be replaced by another recurring dream where the joy is so pure.”

“What do you see in it?”

Eliniel hesitated, wondering if it was going to sound absurd. “I am an elfling in that vision and I share the moment with another who’s face is oddly obscured to me when I am awake. Of late, I have been shown that we both live in a beautiful town surrounded by watch towers. This stranger calls me his sister and uses the name that my mother has given me. I do not know who he is. All I know for certain is how safe and loved I feel when I am sitting cradled in his arms,” she said.

Melian reached out to rearrange some of the blossoms in her hair. Nearby, someone in their group began playing the lyre. “Yet, why do I sense that you are a little troubled by this dream?”

Eliniel eyed Melian. “Since fleeing Ramdal, dreams have been following me. Sometimes when I least expect it, they unfold with personal references that I feel like I should fathom but I do not,” sighed Eliniel. “I fear that these references are a conjuring of my childish, wanting self. Are they my devices of escapism? Or am I irrevocably worn down by all the apprehension?”

Melian took the elf-maiden’s hand into hers. “Have some hope that fate will be kinder to you henceforth,” she replied. “I believe it so, for Doriath may hold more for you yet. Otherwise, why would Laerlin point you here? There are wheels in motion with every step you take, Eliniel.”

The maiden felt sadness welling in her heart. “Alas! I shall rarely be called that name now for it was only ever spoken by my mother.”

Melian lifted Eliniel’s chin to look into her shining eyes. “You are stronger than you know, my child. It is reflected in both your name and nature. Take that leap of faith in yourself and you shall see. Once you do, I shall fulfil my earlier promise to you,” she said before adding with a wink, “But for now, I believe I know a place in Menegroth that you can go to find your peace.”


	14. Chapter 14

The day had yet to begin for many when Idhrenol was on the way to his favourite place in Doriath. Turning into a familiar colonnade of gilded trees, he passed under an archway which led out to a natural outcropping of rock situated a third of the way from the hill summit of Menegroth. The stone tableau was rimmed with pillars thick with creeping vines and shaded overhead by great trees. Below was spread the land of eastern Doriath.

Idhrenol sat alone in the bluish grey of dawn, listening to life stretching awake around him while he waited patiently for the sun to rise. When he was an elfling, one of his most cherished memories was when he had sat between his parents to watch the first ascend of Arien. He remembered how the sunlight had touched the earth, imbuing it with a magical glow that changed throughout the day.

Now in the gentle rising hum of the morning, he suddenly heard light footfalls behind him. Turning around, Idhrenol saw a hooded figure emerge from under the archway. The stranger halted in hesitation.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude,” said a shy voice belonging to a maiden. She lifted her hood and surprise hit Idhrenol as he held the familiar light eyes he saw at the fountain a week ago.

She began to turn away but he quickly stood. “My lady, please do not leave upon my account. Surely this place is large enough to accommodate both of us; and you must not miss what is about to unfold.”

Eliniel considered his invitation. In the end, she approached the bench just mere minutes before the red line in the horizon burst with the glorious rays of sunrise. Gradually, it laid down its golden blanket across the land, replacing the peeling night. 

As the hillside was illuminated, Idhrenol stole a glance at Eliniel whose eyes were closed. He was surprised by how small and frail she looked this way. In the rays of the morning, he also noticed faint scars along her arms and wondered what had befallen her in the years before. Gwaewcol had been reluctant to explain more that night, insisting that it was better for Idhrenol to learn for himself who his sister has become.

“Such serenity,” said Eliniel softly. Her dark hair rippled gently in the cool wind. “The Lady Melian said that I could find a most breathtaking view of the sunrise here.”

Idhrenol smiled. “I was told the same by another a very long time ago. Each time I come to Doriath, this place and moment is one that I treasure.”

Eliniel turned to look at him. “I am afraid I have mistakenly assumed you to be of Doriath. The queen said that few of her people even know the way here,” she said.

“You should count yourself fortunate for having received first-hand directions. It had taken me three attempts to finally discover the right way to this cove,” replied Idhrenol with a chuckle. “Nay, I am not of this kingdom for I am a vassal of Lord Finrod Felagund. Matters of state bring me here on occasion. Can I assume that you, my lady, are from neither kingdom?”

Eliniel nodded once. “I have come a long way from home.”

“Where is home?”

“It was in the region of Ramdal. Darkness has destroyed it,” she answered quietly.

Idhrenol weighed his words. “I am sorry to hear that. At least fate has safely guided you to Doriath.”

A shadow of regret passed the elf-maiden’s face, yet her voice was even when she spoke. “In a way, I wish that the thought of coming to Doriath has never entered my mind. After the destruction of home, I was given the choice to flee from the massacres to the Cape of Balar. Alas! I had turned away from it and paid a price too dear to me.”  
Idhrenol resisted reaching out to her, reminding himself that only he alone was aware of the truth. “Forgive me. I have mindlessly evoked a wound most painful to you,” he said in return.

A shy smile passed Eliniel’s lips. “You could not have foreseen my reply. Surely you cannot be faulted for that reason. Truthfully, I am rather glad that you are not of Doriath. Some of them have unsettled me with their curious glances.” 

“Why would they see you as such, if you do not mind me asking?”

“Perhaps it was because of what had happened on the day my friends and I arrived in the kingdom. Regardless, the marchwardens seemed to think that we had a narrow escape.”  
Realization dawned on Idhrenol and he glanced guiltily at her. “I am afraid I cannot now admit to being entirely ignorant of who you are, Lady Faeveren,” said Idhrenol. Eliniel raised a brow in response.

“When you first sat on this bench, I had deduced that you are unlikely to be of Doriath. No maiden who has stayed long in this kingdom would have such raw marks of hardship as you do. I neither speak nor think ill of you when I say that you seem a delicate creature, therefore I believe it unlikely that you are a soldier,” he explained. “Moreover, I live in the marchwardens’ quarters when I am here so I know each face. I listen to their conversations at times but I did not know that they were speaking of you in their recent accounts.”  
“What do they say?” asked Eliniel after a while.

Idhrenol tried to keep his tone light. “They speak of the day when your party had arrived in the kingdom and how orcs were prowling so close to the borders. Some say that they saw a mysterious occurrence. None know for sure what it was although you could reason that it was likely the ancient enchantments. It may have brought the forest to life to halt such foul incursions.”

“It was still too late,” whispered Eliniel.

“You have lost one person but you do still keep the company of two others dear to you. Do not dwell overlong in sorrow, my lady,” said Idhrenol gently. “Time can numb some of the pain and you may find a purpose to inspire you yet. I say this with conviction because I was very young the day the enemy tore my family asunder.’  
‘I lost my mother and sister and saw my father sacrifice himself to save the rest of us. Despair gnawed at me for I did not know what would become of my brother who was then, barely three summers old.’  
‘We had come a long way from home too, our backs with nothing until three elves allowed us safe passage into Nargothrond. Those dark days can sometimes be vividly real to me upon each reflection but the fear certainly does not overwhelm me anymore.”

“How did you survive the darkness?” asked Eliniel.

“I found a lifeline in my only family I knew for sure was left.”

“Did you have to raise your brother?”

“At first, yes,” answered Idhrenol. Then he laughed. “Though I believe we ended up teaching each other in our own ways when he came of age.”

Eliniel smiled with him. “Your tale is a comfort to my heart. I am glad that your hope has brought you so much.”

“As it will to you too, one day,” replied Idhrenol. He could see profound sadness residing in the blue depths of her eyes. His patience threatened to waver.

They sat in silence, basking in the calm morning. Idhrenol was raking his mind for ways to advance the truth to Eliniel and to comfort her with the fact that a family was waiting for her return. His mind grasped for ideas in a bramble of bewilderment. 

She stood up and walked towards the edge of the rocky plateau, her mind preoccupied. Then she abruptly turned towards the archway’s entrance for footsteps heralded the arrival of someone else.

Legrin stepped into the sunlight and seeing both of them, bowed in greeting. “My lord, the rest are waiting,” he informed Idhrenol who nodded in acknowledgement. The lieutenant beamed courteously as he took his leave.

Idhrenol felt his heart sink. He watched Eliniel turn her attention back to the landscape before them. ‘Patience, Idhrenol,’ he thought to himself. He remembered Gwaewcol’s parting words from that night a week ago. “Take your time with Eliniel and it will eventually come together. She may still harbour memories of you in her life though they could be just wisps. But when she recalls them and remembers you, look out for her, my son, for she will soon be returned what is rightfully hers,” their father had said.

Idhrenol gathered his faith and stood. “Lady Faeveren, I shall take my leave. Your company was most pleasant and I thank you. I hope we meet again,” he said to her with a bow of his head.

“Wait,” she called to him. “If we meet again, I will be poor company if I did not know your name, especially when you already know mine.”

“They call me Sedryn, my lady,” he said with a smile.

 

Eliniel watched him disappear down the corridor, intrigued by how at ease she felt for the first time with a stranger in Doriath. She did remember him as one of the two elves she saw that night at the fountain a week ago.

‘Do you see, Eliniel?’ she thought. ‘He, like the others, has passed no ill judgement of the day your party arrived. Worrying this much is terribly uncharacteristic of you.’  
But convincing herself otherwise has been difficult, especially after Melian had refuted Eliniel’s experience at the kingdom’s borders as the Girdle’s doing. Eliniel brooded, such lapses conjuring the memory of that night which could now play on its own accord. Every detail, from the paralyzing fear she had felt to Tûon’s last breath were still hauntingly vivid to her. 

Eliniel forcefully pushed the guilt away. “The only one who has not forgiven you is yourself,” she sighed, returning her gaze to the dense forest of Region.  
She thought of Laerlin. ‘Naneth, you have brought me here at last, though I wish you could have made the journey with me. Find your peace for I know that you are here with me in my heart,’ prayed Eliniel silently.

 

\----------

 

The main courtyard of the barracks was quiet after the morning guards have marshalled out. Two saddled horses remained near the open gate and with them stood Beleg Cúthalion who was treating the gentle beasts with apples while he patiently waited.

Idhrenol hurried down the stairs knowing well that he was very late for a boar hunt with the marchwardens of Doriath and Nargothrond. Not even pausing for a stop, he swiftly received his gear from a squire. “Forgive me, my friend,” he called out to Beleg. “I thought you would have gone ahead with the others.”

The other elf looked up calmly. “We are heading to a new post. I found tracks there a day ago,” answered Beleg amiably. Then a sly smile began to spread across his face. “I would have thought it highly unusual for you to be tardy my friend, on or off a battlefield. But Legrin has told me discreetly that you were engaged with another.” Beleg’s grin deepened. “You are forgiven.”

Idhrenol groaned. “Wipe that smile off your face, captain! Otherwise, your underlings would believe that you have been poisoned,” he returned as he mounted his own grey stallion.

Beleg laughed heartily as he spurred his horse forward. The horses lurched past the gates and onto the beaten path. They galloped into the forest, the scenery gradually changing from holly trees to the thicker canopy of beech. The green and gold floor thundered with the sound of hooves, the crisp air occasionally punctuated by the call of a bird. After a few leagues out of Menegroth’s confines, they slowed to a trot.

Beleg turned towards Idhrenol as the latter rode up beside him. “It could be a wonderful thing, Sedryn. If you have found someone in Doriath, I could more easily convince you to become one of the kingdom’s commanders. At last, all my futile efforts in the past would finally be rewarded handsomely!’  
‘Do not feign ignorance with me! You know that I have need of you in our army. Compared to many tougher soldiers I know, your strength is mythically remarkable. Your weakness is arguably your age though that is a small chink in the armour and your lord of Nargothrond does not seem to think it a hindrance. You already have eyes so old for one so young,” said the chief marchwarden of Doriath.

Idhrenol frowned at his friend. “Is it not a little too early to be wandering off so unchecked into the realm of fancy?” he asked dryly.

“Some plans can be started early,” laughed Beleg.

Idhrenol sighed and shook his head in disbelief. “It isn’t as sensational as Legrin has led you to expound. I actually met the maiden whom some of the marchwardens have been talking about. I trust that the events of her party’s arrival were the reason behind your appearance in the south west border the day we arrived in Doriath?”

Beleg raised an eyebrow in reply, traces of his earlier mirth dissipating. “I have yet to meet this Lady Faeveren. Count me as one of those intrigued by what had happened on the night her party came to the kingdom,” he said.

“Even you have never encountered such an incidence in all your time in the forest?”

Beleg shook his head, “I can’t say that I have. Since the Girdle of Melian was enforced, I have only ever seen it confound those unwelcomed. Initially I suspected the Ents having a hand in this but no one saw anything resembling those elusive beings on or near the battleground. Granted I have only a faint memory of them but the aftermath that I saw on the field bore anger and perhaps, an intent of abandoned destruction. Can you hazard a guess why the marchwardens only dare whisper about it so far?”

Idhrenol had actually given the matter more thought after Gwaewcol had appeared to him. “Because if this is the effect of the enchantment, it is the first time that it has dealt harm,” he answered. “Yet, if it is not, the question on everyone’s mind would be, what was it then?”

“Exactly, although no one would truly know the answer except the queen,” said Beleg.

Idhrenol kept his eyes ahead, reflecting back to the suspicion he was holding to himself. “Have you not considered asking the queen?” he asked instead with a grin.

Beleg laughed. “Whatever it was, it still protected our own. Otherwise, we would hear more than whispers in the barracks and Menegroth. If this oddity occurs again, I hope I can count on it during the campaign you have brought us from Nargothrond.”

“So you have heard.”

“Did you mean to say that I have heard so soon?” Beleg asked as he glanced at the rider beside him. “If the king needs to amass a force, Mablung would be among the first to know and I would be the second.”

“Your words are threatening to give me hope,” replied Idhrenol. The pace of their journey had slowed down to a walk.

“Ah, fortunately, you do know better, Sedryn,” Beleg began.

“Better than to subsume your orders as a possibly favourable reply from King Thingol,” Idhrenol completed with a sigh. “One can only hope at this point, it seems.”

Beleg stretched out a hand to indicate a stop. They could see the elves of Doriath and Nargothrond convening in the short distance. He motioned for Idhrenol to dismount and walk with him.

“I do hope that the decision will be favourable for Nargothrond. The sons of Fëanor, especially those two in Lord Finrod’s kingdom, are not the best of omens anywhere in Beleriand,” said Beleg quietly.

Idhrenol kept silent and merely smiled politely at the remark. Beleg expected no answer because it was long known that the Nargothrond captain would speak no ill of any citizen in Finrod Felagund’s kingdom despite what he truly felt.

“Will you be the one to lead it if Doriath goes to battle?” asked Idhrenol.

Beleg nodded curtly. “Mablung has his eyes elsewhere.”

“And so we shall find the great Beleg Cúthalion dealing chaos from the front lines,” Idhrenol declared. “I greatly hope that there will be little, if any, sacrifice.”

“That could be averted if you fly the banner of Doriath for me.”

The elf of Nargothrond chuckled. “For you or with you? You are truly unabashed in your manipulative poaching efforts, my friend,” he said in reply to Beleg’s nonchalant shrug. They were nearing the post where the other marchwardens were waiting for them. 

“Shall we have a wager?” asked Idhrenol. “First side to bring a boar back to the post will run home to Menegroth on foot with the carcass and whatever burden the victorious wishes them to carry. In good grace, if I may add.”

“Oh Sedryn, you might as well hand me the reins of your horse now,” sighed Beleg dramatically.

“Don’t be brash.”

“I am not, for I did teach you everything you know of the hunt.”

“Not everything,” said Idhrenol as he broke into a run, leaving a cursing Beleg behind.


	15. Chapter 15

Hareth steadied her hands as she unwound the thick bandages around Belron’s torso. Her mentor from the healing houses stood behind her, inspecting her steps. She could feel an air of nervousness rolling off Belron. ‘Of course he is anxious, this wound nearly claimed his life,’ she thought. But she remained confident of the diligent care they have thus far given.

The last layer fell away, revealing a pink, puckered scar. Belron sighed audibly in relief, allowing Hareth to apply the ministrations that she has done hundreds of times before this. When she was done, she looked to the stern-looking elf behind her who nodded in approval and left the chamber.

“Try stretching a little,” said Hareth as she gathered up the old bandages.

Belron did so and grimaced slightly, the shock making him shrink back. “Well, don’t overdo it! You cannot expect yourself to be hale so soon!” laughed Hareth.

“I thought by the looks of it, I was ready to wrestle a stag,” he replied without missing a beat.

Hareth shook her head in response and watched her friend slowly rotate his arms in wide arcs. Then in a gentler tone, she asked him, “How do you hold, dearest Belron?”

Belron turned to look thoughtfully at her. She could see that he has contemplated this question before. “I miss him,” he answered. “Although I wish so earnestly that he didn’t need to sacrifice himself, I am proud of what adar has done. I have decided some time ago that wallowing in regret would not serve to honour him well, so worry not about me for I will be better now. It will be even more so when I am no longer ensconced in this comforting but claustrophobic chamber.”

Hareth smiled as she reached out to squeeze his hand. “I am glad to hear it.”

Belron returned her touch just as the twinkle returned to his eyes. “Do you think I will be allowed some training at the barracks?”

“You have just been gored and you cannot wait a little longer before you take that risk again?”

Belron laughed. “No need to be so dramatic! I meant eventually, preferably soon. What if I begged them?”

“You are not allowed to venture beyond Menegroth’s gates or even beyond this room without company,” said Hareth. “So I doubt training would be permitted until a few weeks more so just be patient! There is little use pleading with the healers. You may stand a better chance begging Faeveren to smuggle you out.”

“No, she won’t. She will read to me or bring me books and things to occupy myself like she has before this. Of course, we punctuate the monotony by trying to grate on each other’s nerves,” said Belron before his smile faded and his tone turned solemn. “Faeveren seems different these days. I cannot put a finger to it but I know she is no longer the same one who would sneak me out of here in a heartbeat if I asked.”

Hareth knew what Belron meant. It was a side of Eliniel that she saw more frequently of late. “Unfortunately, I cannot deny that,” she admitted. “A darker veil has settled on Faeveren since our arrival here.”

“I know she still bears guilt.”

“Would you feel any different if you were her?”

“No,” answered Belron with a shake of his head. “My father was no less a pillar of strength to Faeveren.”

“I cannot imagine the pain she must feel losing Laerlin and then him so soon,” said Hareth.

“And she has the nightmares to haunt her too,” added Belron.

The elf-maiden frowned in remembrance. “No, the nightmares have stopped shortly after our arrival in Menegroth,” replied Hareth. “Something else has replaced them, a dream more pleasant but she is still as restless.”

Belron gave her a rueful smile. “Looks like even you do not know what troubles her.”

“Alas! I do not. Her reserved demeanour frightens me sometimes,” said Hareth. “I believe she strives to hide her anxieties even more now and I would detest for her to think that she must weather all of this on her own.”

“Well,” replied Belron as he slowly stood up, “Looks like this will take both of us to pry. I do hope she has other distractions that do not share my solitude. I know that you have been well-preoccupied lately.”

Hareth smiled to herself as she replaced the tops of the opened vials of medicine. “Oh, worry not! There are certain traits that even Faeveren herself will find difficult to dismiss,” she laughed. “She has made acquaintances throughout Menegroth, perhaps even to Nargothrond with some army lord. Otherwise, how could a simple wood elf select such illustrious books of warfare history for you?”

Belron helped Hareth pick up the last of the bandages and bottles on the floor. “I have read enough,” he said with an innocent smile. “It is time to put things in perspective.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nice try, Belron. But I will not take your side when you plead with the healer even though you have just effortlessly helped me clear up my things.”  
“Not even an excursion out of this room?” Belron asked in feigned offense.

Hareth laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Elbereth help me if all my patients are like you,” she said. Gathering her belongings, she held out a supporting arm to her friend as they made their way into the hallway.


	16. Chapter 16

Not long after the wager where Beleg proved victorious, Idhrenol returned to where he had first met Eliniel, with little hope that he would see her again so soon. He seldom went to the rocky platform when the day was waning but he needed the peace it brought to help him think about the matter that was his long, lost sister.

Seeking Eliniel in Doriath was not a challenge for Idhrenol. Instead, he had to admit that the difficulty was in what to rightly say or do when he does meet her. ‘Adar, I truly hope that you are watching over us with naneth,’ he prayed silently.

Idhrenol turned a corner and bounded up a flight of stairs, eventually emerging onto the familiar cove. A quick scan of the plateau made his heart leap.

Sitting on the ground against one of the pillars was Eliniel, half her body facing the outer edge. Her blue raiment fluttered in the breeze, partially impeded by a large tome on her bent knees. Her eyes were trained in deep concentration at the text.

Idhrenol walked towards her but Eliniel did not seem aware of his presence. “Eglarest? It is a beautiful place,” he commented when he glimpsed the chapter heading.

The elf-maiden gasped in surprise. She made to stand but Idhrenol crouched down beside her instead. “Forgive me for frightening you, Lady Faeveren. I should have made myself known first. Would you mind if I joined you?” he asked.

“Not at all,” replied Eliniel with an amused smile when she saw him sit on the floor with his legs dangling off the ledge. “And please call me Faeveren, Lord Sedryn. I grew up in a small village that isn’t well acquainted with such stiff formality, let alone award its inhabitants such undeserved graceful titles.”

“I will if you too, address me as Sedryn henceforth. As you can see, I am no different from the others despite what they may have said about me,” Idhrenol laughed. “We are in the last weeks of summer. Why do you isolate yourself with a book?”

“My own foot forbids me to go very far,” sighed Eliniel as she stretched it slowly. “The pain is long gone although the soreness from the sprain tends to reprimand me so fiercely when I abuse my limited freedom. So I plough my way through the library which truly isn’t unpleasant.”

Idhrenol smiled in reply, remembering how their mother used to have mountains of books in their study. “You have picked up an interesting volume. That city is the centre of master shipwrights and the gateway to the West. What has piqued your interest?”

“Sating my ancestral curiosity, perhaps? My grandparents used to tell me stories of their time in that city. Have you been there before?” asked Eliniel.

“Yes, a few times but that was very long ago. It holds a unique place in my heart.”

“Were you of Eglarest?”

Idhrenol shook his head. “Nay, but it was a place where I had spent some of my youth,” he answered. “Home was further up north, a small town no less than ten leagues from Brithombar.”

That mention made Eliniel’s head snap up. Uncertainty was in her voice when she asked, “Sedryn, have you heard of someone called the witch of Brithon before?”

Idhrenol felt himself grow tense. He had heard orcs naming someone a witch but it was only once, when he was quivering in fear while crouched in a dark, muddy trench. There had been an enemy raid on his party and as the orcs were searching for plunder among the slain, he had overheard two of them speaking.

“That worm Gharuk was gutted outside the village, did you hear? Ratarg said a she-elf carrying a little vermin had stuck a sword into his belly. I always knew he was useless! That witch emitted some light force to knock everyone around a little bit and he couldn’t even steady his own feet,” one had said.

“A light? Must have been the Brithon elf-witch,” the other had replied.

“Witch or not, Ratarg said they’ve taken care of it, if you can believe him. He owes me some loot now,” the first one had said again.

Idhrenol had heard the conversation fade away, his heart left pounding because he had wondered if the orcs were speaking of his mother and sister. It was a question that would haunt him for many long years after. But now, one of the people he had sought for was sitting right before him, waiting for his response. “I have heard of that name though I do not know who it is. Why do you ask?”

Eliniel hesitated. “It was an insult that I had heard from an orc.”

“Of yourself?”

“Nay, it was of my mother. They had called her that on the night home was attacked.”

Idhrenol was quiet. Pieces of truth came together in his mind. ‘Patience,’ he reminded himself again. “To them, we are one of the same although our opinion of them does not vastly differ either,” he said, making Eliniel break into a faint smile. 

“Well, Eglarest was different from home,” he diverted on a cheerier note. “Beyond the white walls, it is a vibrant city filled with mariners, builders and of course, traders. Vessels line the docks, parading their beauty to all eyes that can bear to look away long enough from the colourful streets. Then as you go further from the city, tranquil beaches that stretch on for miles shall greet you. Your heart will be serenaded by the song of the sea! It has really been a long while since I was there. You have reminded me that I should perhaps make an effort to return soon. Have you seen the great ocean before?”

“I was told that I once saw it with my mother but alas! I have no memory of it. All this while, I have always thought of Ramdal as my home but Tûon, in the days before he departed Ennor, said there may be more to naneth’s and my life before that. It is a shame that he doesn’t know more of it since I was never permitted more than what naneth deemed was enough for me to know. This secret, if it was that, has perished along with her,” said Eliniel who suddenly blushed. “That was terribly careless of me to share! Forgive me for exploiting your generosity. Oddly enough, other than my friends, I do not think that I have ever felt this comfortable around strangers in Doriath.” 

“I am honoured,” replied Idhrenol with a genuine grin. “May I ask how life was in Ramdal? It is a region that I have yet to explore.”

Eliniel tilted her head in thought. “It was a small place with a very simple life, crude almost, if you compare it to Doriath. Nonetheless, I do miss the sweeping plains with the Andram, Amon Ereb and the river Gelion in the landscape. Life was carefree and I am even more convinced now that if it were not for naneth and Tûon, many in the village would be rather ignorant of what goes on in Ennor,” said Eliniel with a quiet chuckle. “What about you? Do you remember much of your first home?”

Idhrenol closed his eyes for a moment in remembrance. “It was one of the most joyful times in my life,” he answered. “It was more sizeable than Ramdal, though many still consider it a small town.’  
‘In my eyes, it remains as the most beautiful place I have ever seen. There were the distinct quarters where you could lose yourself in, all of them connected by graceful windings of white pathways. Buildings were delicately adorned and the main square with the grand fountain would burst with colours at festivals! All this…set within the lush vale we call home. I rue the day it was destroyed.”

“I believe it was a place where words cannot fully justify its beauty,” said Eliniel to Idhrenol who laughed and nodded in agreement to her reply. “Why did you go to Nargothrond instead of Eglarest? Would not the latter city have been more familiar to you?”

“War was rumoured to be erupting across Beleriand and our escape routes were, honestly, guided by the intention of avoiding the enemy at all costs,” replied Idhrenol. “My plan was initially to strike for Doriath but fate led me instead to Nargothrond’s embrace. I was exhausted, drenched in fear and so I accepted the promise of safety, if not for myself then for my brother’s sake. A few years became centuries and my gratitude became loyalty and love. But Doriath did eventually become a frequented place for me, so surely my fortune has not been poor.”

“Hardly poor at all,” agreed Eliniel. Then, as if she realised something, she turned to the book on her lap and began flipping through the pages until she came to a page with drawings. “Is this how the entire city of Eglarest look like?”

Idhrenol leaned over to study the open pages. “That is Eglarest in the early spring. See the hulls here being fitted and the remaining soaked timbers in the sea?” He pointed to several scenes in the drawings. “By the time summer comes around, the ships would have their full bodies. The markets would be bustling and some traders would eventually bring their wares to Brithombar.”

“The sister city of Eglarest?”

He nodded. “Your learning is quick,” said Idhrenol with a smile. “But why do you look disappointed?”

Eliniel looked down at the pages, hesitating. “I hope you will not think my mind lost,” she began with a bemused tone. “Since naneth was killed, the events of that night had repeatedly haunted my sleep. Then one morning, I began to dream of something else,” said Eliniel. She went on to tell Idhrenol of the dream in its entirety- about the stranger, the beach and the homely abode. Her worry of receiving derision gradually evaporated as his expression turned attentive.

At the end, Idhrenol suddenly realised that he was holding his breath, his heart trembling with an emotion that he could not describe. ‘Oh Elbereth, is fate mocking me? How could it genuinely demand silence of me?’ he thought. Eliniel looked away, self-consciousness all returned when the captain of Nargothrond made no reply for a long while. 

“You have described a wonderful place and dream,” said Idhrenol at last when he had finally steadied his nerve. “I believe that a whimsical dream would not deign to visit you so frequently so do not doubt the existence and value of what you have seen in it. Perhaps it is a very distant, suppressed memory. Can you not recall who this elf is?”

She shook her head. “I have willed every fibre of thought to remember him but the knowledge hovers ever at the edge of my mind, just slightly out of reach,” replied Eliniel.

“I can understand your frustration.” said Idhrenol with more defeat than he intended to show. He exhaled and then stood up, extending a hand out to the elf-maiden. “Your mind may have been cooped up in Menegroth for too long. Would you have my company to Hirilorn?”

Eliniel’s face lit up in the late summer sun. “I would be glad to! Hareth has been too occupied and Belron still not fully hale to wander with me there. But I may slow you down,” said Eliniel, glancing pointedly at her ankle.

“Slow is good for me,” laughed Idhrenol. “My life scarcely allows leisure although if you were to ask my brother, he would vehemently disagree. He is more to the opinion that I am the one to blame.”

Eliniel returned his mirth and shut her book. Accepting his help to stand, they both exited the cove. Just then, a gust of cool wind danced merrily across the platform.


	17. Chapter 17

The day was bright and warm after a stormy beginning to the week. Down at the training grounds, activities have resumed in a flurry. Movements in certain quarters of the massive complex hinted at something ominous to come.

Hareth sat patiently in a corner, watching Belron duel with a marchwarden. He had truly pleaded for weeks with Doriath’s healers to permit him some training at the barracks. They have eventually agreed, stipulating a tedious list of conditions that Belron must heed. But all the restrictions did not hinder his glee when he was handed a wooden broadsword to practice with. 

From Hareth’s position, she could see much of the other battalion’s training, their rhythm punctuating the conversations that floated down from the second level of the open building. In the distance, Hareth could see Eliniel walking towards her with a respectable looking elf. She observed a light shining from her friend’s face when the latter smiled. Hareth knew it to be genuine, free from the forced levity that Eliniel sometimes hid behind.

Her eyes went from the elf-maiden to her companion. Hareth allowed her gaze to linger upon both for something indefinable caught her eye. She could hear strains of their conversation when they stopped a short distance away. 

“Alas! I am needed back in Nargothrond after being away for nearly two whole moons. I will be departing with the rest of my people tonight. Please keep safe for there are events afoot,” he said.

“Will you return to Doriath again?” asked Eliniel. 

“As soon as I am able, of that you can be assured.”

Eliniel smiled and returned his nod as he took his leave. Turning around, she saw Hareth staring thoughtfully at her. “You look like you are solving an intricate matter, Hareth.”  
Hareth blinked, dismissing her thoughts for a later reflection. “There is something about him that I cannot place- A light upon his face perhaps? Is he the lord you have spoken to me of?”

Eliniel nodded. “I find something peculiar about him too, but the impression is so fleeting. Nevertheless, you can trust that he is a good person. I sometimes feel like he is a fusion of naneth and Tûon! How odd it is that he should also help chase away my dark shadows alongside you and Belron.”

“You must have found a kindred soul in him,” replied Hareth.

“Unfortunately, he is a kindred soul who will be leaving the kingdom,” sighed Eliniel. She watched the duel before them, indicating to Belron. “How is he doing? He looks somewhat tired.”

“More frustrated than tired,” answered Hareth. “He misses what he was but frequently forgets what his body has been through.”

They watched their friend move through the steps, noticing how Belron was occasionally half a second slower. But they could also see his strength and agility improve over the past week. 

“How was your week in the healing houses?” asked Eliniel.

“Daunting,” laughed Hareth. “The people there have been so generous and their work is noble although their lore is tremendously difficult. I have never been more grateful for the times Laerlin had insisted study upon us! I am beginning to understand just how complex it is with the tasks they have set me to.” She sighed in contentment, remembering the rush of getting a ministration correct after countless hours of poring over dizzying scripts. The weight of responsibility sometimes made her tremble but the satisfaction alleviated much of the fatigue.

“I know that look well, my dear friend. You have been smitten,” said Eliniel with a wide grin. “You will soon build fortresses of books with me in our chambers!”

“Not just our chambers,” Hareth corrected. “I am afraid a lot of my coming days will be spent locked away in the kingdom library. Sometimes I find it overwhelming to stay so deep underground for so long after a life on the open plains and woods. Yet, I must admit that my love for Doriath is growing.”

Just then, they heard someone deal a forceful blow. Belron had determinedly lunged forward, his wooden sword brought down in a backhanded blow which the marchwarden had parried effectively. “You are improving,” he said to Belron after signalling a stop to their training. “But I am to remind you not to push yourself too hard…at least, not yet.”

The elf nodded and thanked the marchwarden, surrendering the blunt weapon as another day and time was agreed upon. Joining Eliniel and Hareth on the bench, Belron sank down wearily. “Have you come to mock me?” he asked forlornly. 

The two others laughed. “Of course not! How could you think so little of us?” asked Hareth. 

Belron sat back with a wince. “I have such a long way to go,” he groaned.

“Be grateful that you are no longer idle in your sick bed. Surely that thought should instil a little more appreciation in your heart,” said Eliniel as she gave him a short hug.

Belron smiled sheepishly in return. “I must be like a child in both your eyes now,” he replied. “Truth be told, I am contented. The more time I spend here, the more I believe that my place is with the march. It is intimidating because they are warriors yet what they live by is fascinating. I have been told that I stand a chance to join them.” Pride was radiating from Belron’s face at that admission.

“As glad as I am for you, I hope you wouldn’t be called to arms anytime soon,” said Eliniel, a tinge of worry in her voice. 

“Fret not! If I suffer a tumble, Hareth here can keep me hale while you can keep my mind sharp,” laughed Belron. “Perhaps you would be the one to beat some actual scholarly sense into me.”

Eliniel sighed in mocked exasperation and Hareth smiled, waiting for a witty rebuke but there was none. When she looked closer, Hareth could read from the tautness in her friend’s eyes that Eliniel felt uncomfortable.

From across the bench, Belron caught Hareth’s eye and they saw the same concern mirrored on each other’s faces. She replied with a subtle shrug.

Belron cleared his throat. “Are you happy here, Faeveren?” he asked, gently.

Eliniel showed no recoil at the question although she did not give an immediate answer. “That is an odd thing to follow up with,” she answered, her face remaining a mask. “Honestly, I am not certain how I feel here. Why do you ask?”

“We grew up together, Faeveren. You may not always share all your thoughts with us but we would be poor friends indeed if we could not even sense that something troubles you,” Belron explained. 

“Will you not tell us, even if it were just a fraction? If we cannot help you solve it, at least we could raise you through the storm,” added Hareth.

Eliniel hesitated a long while. “I am not particularly fond of this kingdom,” she sighed in the end with a glance at both of them. “A part of me wishes to run away from here but my reasons are so cowardly! Maybe I am seeking something else, a form of distraction, perhaps? Yet, I am unsure what the distraction should be. I am making no sense to either of you, am I?”

Hareth reached out to take Eliniel’s hand. “Faeveren, have you considered that Laerlin did not ask you to come to Doriath for just the safety but also for the vibrancy which she knew could occupy you better than the Cape of Balar?” she asked. “Besides, your wit is quicker than ours. Even if fate decides to set your feet on the road, with or without a return, I have no doubt that you will be fine.”

Belron nodded in agreement. “You will eventually find a purpose to lead you but you must first learn to let go of unneeded weight. I sense that deep down you are afraid, probably of the world or even of yourself, though I could be wrong. Look, Hareth and I are not against you learning some sensibilities but sometimes, you seem to be a shadow of who we remember well and miss. If it is yourself that you fear, then no one else holds the remedy but you, dear Faeveren.”

The sounds of the barracks filled in the silence that followed. Eliniel looked into her lap where Hareth and Belron’s hands were clasping hers. Exhaling, she stood up and turned around to pull her friends to their feet. “I require time and fortunately, that is what I have. Maybe you are right in that I have not given Doriath a fair chance to show me its distractions. Please, worry not! I shall take your words as a comfort and they will help fuel some optimism in me. Now, shall we retreat into Menegroth?”

The three of them looked at each other, a mutual understanding passing among them. ‘At least she knows our thoughts and we, a part of hers. For now, that should be enough,’ thought Hareth.

Slowly, they made their way back to the city with Belron beginning his tirade of questions about Eliniel’s mysterious companion from Nargothrond. As they walked out of the training grounds, they passed the armoury where blacksmiths were measuring their inventory.

Above in the second level, Beleg Cúthalion sat in a council chamber with many other captains. Scrolls of parchment were laid open on the wide table, stratagems marked across them. Doriath was preparing for a battle.


	18. Chapter 18

The afternoon was waning by the time guards at the Doors of Felagund saw a small cavalry approaching. Some of the riders were carrying banners of pale blue and gold, the house emblem fluttering in the careless wind.

The guards identified the cavalry’s foremost rider and relayed the orders. The gates swung open and those Idhrenol passed saluted him as he rode into the quadrangle. Already there were others assembled at the end of receive his company.

A horsemaster took the reins of Idhrenol’s stallion and frowned when he eyed the majestic animal. “Have the stables in Doriath been generous with him, my lord?”

Idhrenol patted the stallion’s body with a laugh. “Well, I did not exactly prevent it, either,” he replied. He made a quick glance around the square and saw, as he had guessed, two advisors from Lord Finrod’s court standing a distance away. One of them tilted his head in question towards Idhrenol who responded with a nod. That must have been an adequate response for they then disappeared amongst the crowd.

‘The king must truly need Doriath’s answer,’ he thought as he unbuckled his weapons. “Have you seen my brother, Gelmir?” Idhrenol asked the waiting squire.

“I saw Lord Huindîr in camp this morning, though not since then. But I know for certain that he has remained in Nargothrond. Should I send for him, Lord Sedryn?”

Idhrenol looked towards the kingdom’s city entrance where many were heading. Undoubtedly, his arrival in the kingdom would not go unnoticed for long now by the king himself. “No need,” he answered. “Send someone to Lord Finrod’s court instead and express my wish to speak with him. But if you see my brother, let him know that I have returned. Thank you, Gelmir.”

With a quick step, he joined the traffic into the heart of Nargothrond. As he exited the quadrangle, he glimpsed those from Celegorm’s retinue watching him from afar. Idhrenol turned and raised a hand to them in an amicable greeting, generating a look of surprise that was swiftly recomposed.

Idhrenol sighed inwardly at the politics and wondered whether a dark shadow has come to hang permanently over the kingdom. ‘Think favourably now,’ he chided himself. ‘You have fair tidings to impart.’

 

Later that night, Idhrenol sat alone in his home, deep in thought. The modest hall was illuminated by the amber glow from the steady hearth fire. His earlier closed council with Finrod had turned out well, with the king praising Idhrenol’s efforts for convincing Thingol to answer Nargothrond’s appeal. It was even agreed that the captain should accept Doriath’s diplomatic offer to return as a Watcher when the battle breaks.

His mind inadvertently oscillated from kingdom matters to his own where he could feel his heart sink, towed under by an indescribable weight. Idhrenol finally understood Gwaewcol’s predicament. 

He thought long about Laerlin, seeking to fathom the reasons for her actions. The elf reflected, for the umpteenth time, on what Eliniel had willingly shared about her life with their mother. It had remained a guarded tale but it was sufficient to help Idhrenol piece together whatever else he knew.

“Perhaps you are in a better place now than where you were before, naneth,” he whispered. “Our paths were similar but alas! you were dealt the poorer hand.”

The click of a door interrupted Idhrenol’s thoughts. “Muindor, are you here? Gelmir told me that you have returned,” Amaron called out into the house. He appeared at the hall’s entrance with a grin that rapidly faded when he saw Idhrenol’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Behind his younger brother, he could see a familiar figure approaching. The soft firelight revealed his mentor, Galadhon, who shared Amaron’s concern. Idhrenol stood up in deference as the two gathered in the hall with him.

“You look like the weight of the world is upon your shoulders. Did the meeting with King Thingol go unfavourably?” asked Galadhon.

“No. On the contrary, in fact.”

“Then why do you look so grim?”

Idhrenol stared into the merrily burning hearth. His heart had long forsaken any doubt surrounding Galadhon’s honour although that sentiment had required some time to attain. Idhrenol had been slow to accept him even though it was Galadhon who had nurtured the two brothers in Nargothrond. But over the years, regardless of joyous or overwhelming times, Galadhon has given them the sincerest of faith and patience until in the end, Idhrenol was assured that he could confide in Galadhon his troubles, hopes and past. But of the last, he has never betrayed Amaron and his true parentage along with their abilities.

“Naneth has passed on to the Halls of Awaiting,” Idhrenol said quietly.

Amaron blinked then exhaled sharply. He crossed over and laid a hand upon his brother’s shoulder.

“Oh, I am sorry, Sedryn,” said Galadhon. “How do you know for certain?”

Idhrenol looked up, his lips pressed in hesitation of what he was about to say. “I found her.”

“Who?” asked Galadhon. 

“Eliniel?” interjected Amaron at the same time.

Idhrenol looked to his brother and nodded. “Yes, it is her but she is not with us in Nargothrond now,” he replied. When the puzzled expressions on their faces deepened, he continued, “Although our meeting was much favoured by fortune, matters are not as simple as I could hope for. It seems that naneth has had a trying life after our sundering because fear must have led her to raise and shelter Eliniel so closely to the point that our dear sister retains no conscious memory about our family. I was and still am forced to bid my time with the truth. That now, is the weight you see upon my brow.”

His company remained quiet. Galadhon stirred first, asking, “Is there anything else that you can do?”

“I will be returning to Doriath soon, for Nargothrond and for her,” answered Idhrenol. “Even though I am not entirely clear of my reason for the latter, I feel like I must.”

Galadhon nodded slowly. “Of course you must, Sedryn,” he replied, stealing a glance at Amaron who still remained silent. “If you require anything, please ask it of me.”

Amaron then cracked a smile. “We have already taken too much from you, my lord,” he said.

“Say nothing of it, young Huindîr!” Galadhon said dismissively. “You have become a part of my family. Otherwise, why would I have bothered digging then keeping you out from the wild all those years ago?”

The two brothers laughed at the long-standing jibe. “How has the kingdom been?” asked Idhrenol. 

Amaron must have sensed his brother’s desire to divert the conversation, for he got up to fill wine goblets for the three of them. Galadhon, who could also read the hint well, leaned back in his seat. “Much as how you have left it,” he answered. “Lord Finrod has kept the marching calls at bay quite remarkably. The tidings you bring from Doriath will either aid or mar his campaign.”

“I have met with Lord Finrod. The message I have returned with will help him, I believe,” returned Idhrenol. “He may have held the situation in Nargothrond but he may have also depended on King Thingol’s answer before a further move is made.”

“All is in motion, then?”

Idhrenol nodded. “Beleg himself will assure it.”

“Who won this time, muindor?” asked Amaron. The question elicited a long, pained groan from his brother.

Galadhon laughed. “You stand a chance when you go against any great hunter, yet I cannot refrain from calling you foolish when you decide to go against Beleg Cúthalion.”

“He stole my mark,” muttered Idhrenol.

Amaron whistled in awe. “Remind me to look out for him next time.”

The three of them carried on with their banter late into the evening, exchanging the comings and goings within the kingdom and beyond. Idhrenol felt quickly at ease in this company although he also knew that Amaron and Galadhon were intentionally skirting away from the matter that was Eliniel. He was grateful for how well they understood him.

It was past midnight by the time Galadhon stood up to take his leave. “Remember what I said earlier, both of you. Ask for any aid you will have of me, for I know this moment when you find your sister again is truly one close to your family’s heart. I do hope that this will all come to a good end,” he said to the two brothers at the door.

They bade each other a good night, then the two brothers returned to settle back in their hall. After a while, Idhrenol could feel Amaron’s gaze upon him.

“Muindor, will you tell me how you finally found her?” asked Amaron when their eyes met.

“It was not me who found her,” answered Idhrenol slowly. “It was adar. He had appeared in Doriath and led me to Eliniel.”

Amaron’s eyes widened with surprise. To quell the deluge of questions forming behind it, Idhrenol recounted to his brother all that had occurred during that fateful visit. At the end of his tale, he walked over to the fireplace’s mantel to retrieve an object. Gwaewcol had given his son a small box made of holly before he had bidden his final farewell. It contained the ashes of Laerlin.

“How did he come by this?” asked Amaron. “Would it not have been in Eliniel’s possession?”

Idhrenol shook his head ruefully. “She never got the chance to see naneth again. It was only by a stroke of luck that death spared her,” he said as he began to speak of what Eliniel had willingly shared with him, woven with the truths Idhrenol himself have discovered about her peculiar arrival in Doriath.

Amaron looked a little troubled as he digested the misfortunes that had befallen their sister. “I pray that bitterness has not engulfed her heart,” he said. “Do you believe that she is truly unaware of her own strength?”

“Yes, unlike you, adar had to bind that ability.”

“All because of you,” returned Amaron, who began to laugh. Idhrenol could not help splitting into a wry smile. 

“She may be too afraid to see that the surge of power came from herself and not the protective enchantments of Queen Melian,” said Idhrenol. He remembered how Eliniel had reluctantly described that night to him.

The hall became silent again, allowing the crackling of the fire to fill in. “How I wish that adar could just remind her of her past! He may still be in Doriath,” Idhrenol sighed out of a sudden.

Amaron sniffed in reply. “You know well that that will terrify her,” he said. “Adar must have foreseen this day. Otherwise, it is uncanny how so much has fallen into place.”  
“He may have foreseen the events leading to it but he remains as blind as us of the outcomes.”

“What will you do now?”

“I know not,” answered Idhrenol, feeling his heart sink into helplessness again. “I trust that she remembers something, for she could describe a day that I had shared with her when she was very young. It was as perfect as I remember it myself.”

Amaron took the box of holly and began twirling it in his hands as he thought. “So one of the decisions is obvious,” he said at last. 

The older brother looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “I cannot follow you to Doriath when you go back there again. I will contribute nothing save to upset her, especially when you think we look similar,” explained Amaron.

Understanding dawned upon Idhrenol and he slowly nodded. “I am afraid you are right,” he sighed. “Alas! just when I need you most.”

A slight frown of concern gathered across Amaron’s forehead. “Muindor,” he began furtively.

“Yes?”

Hesitation seemed to tug at his younger brother. “Nothing,” replied Amaron instead with a shrug.

Idhrenol smiled, recalling what his father had said about this dear sibling of his. Here was someone who could read and bare Idhrenol’s soul to the world for judgement. Yet Amaron was also the one person in Beleriand who he could be assured to remain irrevocably on his side. He sensed that he knew what his younger brother had wanted to say. Amaron had thought of helping Idhrenol regardless, but his prudence then demanded that he retract the offer. “Thank you, little one.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

Amaron gave Idhrenol a long, amused look. “Well, I hope you are ready for what is going to happen in Nargothrond since you have set the wheels in motion with your return.”


	19. Chapter 19

Melian strolled alone under the canopied terrace outside of Menegroth’s southern wing. Her presence enticed greeting chirps from birds passing her by in flight. Further along the path, the Queen entered a section where verandas shaded by foliages extended out onto rolling fields.

When she came near one of these alcoves, she saw a familiar elf-maiden occupying the stone bench, a heavy- looking sack at her feet and a length of linen in her moving hands. “A good morning to you, Eliniel Faeveren,” greeted Melian.

Eliniel gasped in surprise. She quickly stood up to bow, causing the embroidered linen to cascade to the ground.

“Would you mind if I join you?” asked Melian as she stooped down to help the maiden gather up her work.

“Not at all, my lady,” Eliniel answered, moving to a side of the bench.

“I thought you have gone under the tutelage of Daeron. This here seems like a task our weaver normally sets her younger wards to.”

“Well,” Eliniel trailed with a blush, “I am learning from both. Lord Daeron will be instructing me after the noon bell.”

Melian inspected the segment of linen in her hands. The needlework was neat and precise. “This is delicate work, Eliniel, well done! You are holding a lot on your platter from what I have gathered, yet the results of your undertakings seem to belie that.”

Pride tinted Eliniel’s cheeks. “Perhaps now you can understand my mother’s hardship as she struggled to keep me occupied last time. I believe the only way she had my mischief managed was to feed me with occupation! Otherwise, she knows that she would have to look for me miles away from the village.’  
‘There was once, when Belron and I were very young, I had convinced him to borrow horses from the other villagers for us to ride to Amon Ereb. You should have seen the fury on our mother’s faces!” 

Melian laughed along with her. “At least the lands beyond Menegroth’s walls are safer than the wilderness of Ramdal; and the confines of Doriath hold much more distractions yet,” she said. “Where are your friends? I have not seen them in a while. Do they find the kingdom accommodating?”

“I believe they do. They have both found their calling and I am glad for them. After all, these are the two who have tolerated my whims, impulses and multiple strokes of foolhardiness,” answered Eliniel with a tone that quickly turned pensive. A very fleeting shadow passed the young elf’s face. “However, I must admit that Belron’s decision to join the march unsettles me. Yet, who am I to stand in between his desire? He and Hareth have never stood against me for anything short of endangering myself.”

Melian decided to follow her intuition and asked Eliniel, “Are you doing well, my child?”

“Perhaps not, my lady,” answered Eliniel quietly. “Despite what you see in my small achievements, I envy my friends for being able to find their destiny with comparable ease. Well, at least, their coming here was not all in vain…I would not know how to redeem their lives if it was. Sometimes, I feel a little left out yet that is fine. I should learn to embrace a little more solitude. I believe that the journey here has changed me though I do sometimes fear that these changes may not be for the better.”

“If you deem it unhealthy, why do you still welcome the change? Is not a life filled with love more worthwhile than a solitary one that merely watches the passing of others, even if the latter does bring sorrow?” 

Eliniel made a quick glance at Melian, realising that the queen was not reproaching her. “I do not deny the worth of such a life, my lady,” returned Eliniel. “Yet I think you can understand my sentiment when I say that being one of the Eldar, witnessing the first death of your own kin changes your perspective tremendously. I have now seen the passing of two very dear to me, all in a short time. I do not wish to be a hard person but I do not feel strong enough to brave the pain brought by such loss so soon.”

Melian swept strands of hair from the elf’s cheeks. She saw defeat darkening Eliniel’s eyes. “Are you running away from life, my child?” she asked as she took away the wad of linen that the younger elf had unknowingly crumpled.

Eliniel’s fair face displayed surprise. Her reply did not come immediately. “I am not afraid of what is behind me, only of what is before.”

“I believe that still counts,” said Melian with a gentle laugh. “Where do you think your place is?”

“My heart tells me that it is not here…maybe not yet.”

“And if the wind takes you elsewhere, will you allow yourself to be carried by it once more?”

“If on my own, I do not doubt it for a moment but whither do I go? I have considered a venture to Western Beleriand although I may no longer have kin there. Perhaps Belron does but I am reluctant to let him know of my plans since I believe that he will not allow me to go alone.”

The queen looked at her, an amused twinkle in her eye. “If he loves you like you do of him, I am sure he will understand your wishes. Sooner or later, at least,” she said as she picked up Eliniel’s sack. “Come now, you should be on your way. Our talk here has made you a little tardy for Lord Daeron’s meeting.”

Eliniel’s eyes widened with alarm and she quickly filled her bag. Bowing to Melian, she hurried away.

Melian watched her go. She knew that she has just witnessed a child trying to leave the threshold of youth. As she stood up to leave, a voice behind her suddenly said, “She has changed.”

Melian turned around and saw Gwaewcol. “I know,” she replied. “I have seen her through your memories. The journey that has taken her out of Ramdal has taught her much. Although her outlook shows it not, I can sense the strength within her spirit. I think she is ready.”

Gwaewcol sighed ruefully as he came up beside the queen. “None of them are truly ready for what we bring them.”

“I am loathed to admit that what you say is true,” laughed Melian. She linked her arm around Gwaewcol’s. “Yet, they have our blood in part, so they learn to be resilient quite quickly.”

“You think I should take the risk then?”

“From what I have seen and understood, I think you should trust her and your son. And of course, yourself,” said Melian as they continued on the terrace path together.

 

_______________________

Idhrenol awoke in his darkened room. He blinked, dissipating the dream he just had of himself walking along a beach with an elfling in his arms. 

Slowly, he rose from his bed. In one corner of the room, light travelling gears were propped at the ready. The elf thought it curious that he felt only clarity in his heart and mind now after weeks of meandering in the discomfiting realm of uncertainty.

Idhrenol ran through his orders from Finrod Felagund as he readied himself for the journey back to Doriath. Hoisting his pack, he exited his room only to find Amaron sitting in the hall, waiting for him.

“I had assumed that sleep would not have cast a heavy hand on you,” greeted Amaron with a smile. He was still kitted in his travelling cloak after the night patrol. “Looks like I was not wrong.”

Idhrenol raised an eyebrow. “I thought you have decided that it would not be wise to follow me on this journey. Have you changed your mind?”

“No, muindor. That decision remains,” answered Amaron. “I have been thinking about something else and an idea has come to me. I was hoping that I could share it with you before you leave Nargothrond.”

Idhrenol settled his pack onto a seat but Amaron shook his head. “Take it with you, for we must make our way out of the city first,” the latter said. “I have requested Gelmir to relay the order to the other captains. They will meet you at the Doors of Felagund an hour after dawn.”

The two brothers soon rode out into the chilly night. About a league west of the city’s borders, Amaron signalled a halt. They have arrived at a part of the forest where mighty oak trees grew.

The sky in the east was streaked with clouds of pink, illuminated by the fiery line of sunrise. A soft wind blew across this glade of strong boles.

Amaron dismounted and walked ahead, leading the way to an empty patch amongst the towering trees. He stooped down to retrieve a handful of the earth.

“Will you now enlighten me on our purpose here?” Idhrenol asked.

“We are here to give naneth a proper burial,” replied Amaron as he picked out an oak seed from the soil in his hand. “Although the memory of her will forever stay in our hearts, I feel that her remains do not deserve to be encapsulated in a box. After all, she had spent the last four centuries in hiding. This will stop now.” He pulled out something familiar and handed it to his older brother.

Idhrenol took the box and ran his fingers across the wooden grains reverently. He glanced at Amaron who was waiting patiently for him. His brother was holding a small portion of the earth, the seed he found earlier sitting at the apex.

Idhrenol opened the box. “I have and will always trust you, little one,” he said to Amaron as he poured the ash into the waiting hand.

Taking a small step back, Idhrenol suddenly felt a trill in the air and earth. It began as a low hum then gradually, there was a faint shimmer swirling gracefully around them. He knew these sensations to be discernible to very few. Quickly, he shifted his gaze to the closed palms of his brother who was kneeling on one knee.

A green shoot shyly emerged from the mixed soil between Amaron’s fingers. It divided itself into two thin arms where bright sapling leaves gloriously burst forth. Then, white roots began to appear. He opened his hands as the delicate tendrils elongated and cascaded towards the ground, digging into the earth with feeble strands that rapidly grew coarser. Amaron slowly turned his palm to gently support the new plant.

The main stem of the shoot continued to thicken, steadying itself as it grew. Its head sprouted into a multitude of branches, bringing forth more leaves that matured from a young green into a deeper colour in a matter of seconds. Amaron stood up and began moving away, concentration in his eyes but his lips upturned with joy.

Before the brothers’ eyes, the girth of this oak widened and aged, becoming one that may have lived for many decades. They could hear the creaking as this tree stretched, arms reaching for the skies and its powerful roots gnawing deeper beneath their feet.

Idhrenol’s gaze followed the branches as they raced upwards, the rising sun illuminating the final leaves that unfurled at the crown of the oak tree. Then, he could feel the trill in the air recede and all became quiet once more save for the whispering wind that caressed their faces.

“Now you can be among us without fear, naneth, between the liberating winds and the comforting earth. We hope that you have found your peace. Do not worry about us,” said Idhrenol quietly into the morning.

Amaron came to stand beside him, laying a hand upon Idhrenol’s shoulder. “I can feel our sister’s presence if I look hard for her. She feels alone though she does not need to be,” he said. “I wish you fortune in your quest, muindor…For both quests, in fact. And I look forward to the day you bring Eliniel home.”


	20. Chapter 20

The quiet corridor echoed with light footfalls. Eliniel’s pale raiment rustled against her brisk pace as she headed towards Menegroth’s main gate. There was a flutter of excitement in her heart since Belron relayed a message to her yesterday.

Her friend had seen the Nargothrond captain’s arrival into the kingdom in the morning. Sedryn had approached Belron at the training grounds, much to the latter’s surprise. “I believe you are the master Belron whom Faeveren speaks so fondly of. If I may trouble you, could you please let your dear friend know that I have returned to fulfil a promise I have made to her? I shall wait at Parth Estel at noon tomorrow,” Sedryn had said to him.

Eliniel smiled at the thought of meeting him again. Only when she has crossed the threshold of Menegroth’s gate and the sunlight touched her face did a small part of her asked why she was so eager. “I don’t know,” she muttered to herself in return as she slowed down her pace.

Outside the stronghold of Thingol, autumn has painted the surroundings a rich hue of gold and red. The air brought cold winds down from the Dorthonion highlands.

Eliniel missed the warmth of summer, being preoccupied with her own distractions and helping Hareth study her lore. Since her encounter with Melian, Eliniel has begun to solidify her own nebulous plan of departing Doriath for a while. Her yearning to go to Eglarest for a reprieve was growing stronger and so she fortified herself with information, for she knew that heart alone was not enough to bring on this journey. 

After passing a cluster of trees, the stone pathway disappeared into the thick grass of Parth Estel. Eliniel espied Sedryn standing in the distance, his back towards her as he watched the sky attentively. Curious, she followed his gaze.

His mark began as a speck in the clear sky. It spiralled downwards in wide, graceful circles. Gradually, it became clearer that it was an eagle of majestic proportions. Eliniel watched it fly towards Sedryn who raised a hand to it. His face was alight with joy. She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at the strangely familiar expression.

Then the realisation suddenly crashed into her- the eyes, the smile and his voice speaking the words she knew so well. “There is nothing to fear, for I am here with you,” he had once said. 

All at once, the face in her dreams was illuminated with a fierce brilliance. Images from long ago bubbled up. Eliniel saw both of them walking on the beach and playing by a fountain. She also saw Sedryn running a distance away on a broken field. She remembered that their eyes had met for the briefest moment and she had ceased her crying before an explosion blinded her eyes with dust and debris, her mother who was carrying her screaming.

These memories burned so bright, the pain forced the breath out of her. “It was you,” Eliniel said, her voice loud and clear upon the quiet field.

Sedryn whirled around to face her, his shock quickly turning into anxiety then concern when he saw her face. Uncertainty hung upon his lips as they stood looking at each other.  
Eliniel could feel her heart beating fiercely when the elf slowly approached her.

“I have seen your face in my dreams,” she said. “I know you.”

“What then, is my name, Eliniel?” he asked quietly.

Eliniel could hear it in her mind. There was a voice that had called it out in her dream and he had answered. All the names she has known him with- Glaison and Sedryn- suddenly meant little to her now. “Idhrenol, my brother,” she whispered. Idhrenol exhaled with relief. 

But still, she stood unmoving, her eyes locked with his, torrents of emotion churning within her being. ‘A family beyond naneth, a life beyond Ramdal…naneth’s secret. Was I blind? What is happening?’ a voice in her head screamed.

“Will you please say something?” asked Idhrenol after a while.

As if his words brought her out of her reverie, Eliniel strode past him. Hiding her face, she tried to gather what remaining courage there was, drawing in deep breaths before she turned back to face him. “Were they real? Us by the beach? In that homely house?”

Idhrenol nodded. “Yes.”

“How could you not tell me?”

“I do not think you would have believed me.”

Eliniel opened her mouth to protest but the truth in Idhrenol’s words stopped her. In the end, she weakly replied, “I could have remembered you all those years ago. Why do I remember you now?”

“You were very young when we were sundered,” replied Idhrenol with a sorrowful sigh. “Why you have recalled pieces of the memories now, I truly do not know. Truthfully, I am just elated that you did.”

She looked to her feet, her hand absently twisting the edges of her cloak. “When did you realise? I mean, have you always known it was me?”

Idhrenol nodded. “Since the day I saw you for the first time in Doriath,” he replied. “I could not believe my eyes, for the sensible part in me has wrestled for a long time to douse any hope of finding you. Yet, there you were before me but our multiple encounters proved that you were unaware of our past.’  
‘There were no words to describe the impatience in my heart when you recounted a moment that we genuinely had. I did not know if I could reveal myself to you, but forgive me if I could have because I did not know how.”

Eliniel harked back to their meetings, her mind in furious contemplation. She felt winded, all the enthusiasm from moments before completely leached out of her. “No, you couldn’t,” she said softly. “I would not have believed you, Idhrenol.” As soon as the name tumbled from her lips, her eyes widened in surprised.

A glimmer of hope passed Idhrenol’s face. “Other than knowing your true identity, I have never lied to you. I cannot expect you to trust me now although I do hope that someday you might once more. But may we begin again? And this time, with all the truth you wish of me,” he said as he took a wary step closer to her.

Eliniel did not flinch. In all fairness, he had not treated her with guile thus far. ‘Is this where I have to take that leap of faith?’ she asked herself.

Slowly, she approached Idhrenol who held out his hand. Tentatively, she took it and watched him put it to the crook of his arm where she had sat as an elfling in the seemingly distant past. They walked together upon the field, allowing the event that has just unfolded to sink in.

When they came to a tree with a dipping bough overlooking a small lake, Eliniel turned to Idhrenol. “It has been many years, how could you be certain that it is me?” she asked.  
He smiled fondly. “You do look a lot like naneth,” replied Idhrenol before lapsing into a short pause. “Both you and Amaron have her eyes.”

Eliniel felt her insides lurch. “Amaron,” she repeated. She had forgotten about Idhrenol’s brother! 

She closed her eyes and revisited her childhood memory. She could hear Idhrenol speak, seemingly from far away. “He is your twin. When we were escaping the town, naneth was the one who carried you and I, him,” he said. Eliniel could feel the colour draining from her cheeks at this revelation. The questions in her mind doubled.

“I know what your heart is asking, Eliniel,” said Idhrenol softly. “Naneth had meant well when she decided to keep this from you. I think she believed that there was no other choice.”

“She has taught me that there is always a choice!” cried Eliniel angrily.

“Then perhaps, you should choose to believe that her choice was made with noble intentions,” he gently replied. “You have not actually seen all of what had happened on the day we were sundered! I do not doubt that naneth had come to later realise that it was a grave mistake to call out our names in front of the enemy but it is a blameless one. She did not know that adar would reveal himself to save the townspeople. I believe she had feared that we have all been marked because the truth remains that our family is different, little one.’  
‘Misfortune had its revelry on that day, for so many families were divided. Naneth never knew if Amaron and I had survived the attack. Surely she had wondered in the same way I had about both of you ever since. But she was dealt a more difficult path and the only way she knew how to brave it was to assure herself that she was protecting the only child she thought she had left by all means. So, forgive her from your heart, Eliniel Faeveren, because you cannot imagine the hardship that naneth had to put herself through.” Idhrenol glanced at his long-lost sister and reach out to catch a silver tear from her cheek.

“How are we different?” asked Eliniel after a long period of silence. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Adar was not of the elves,” replied Idhrenol with a glance heavenwards. “He is a being of the winds and his might is ancient. He took our form because an elf-maiden walking along the beaches in Eglarest had enamoured him when Ennor was still young. They fell in love and their union brought us three.”

Eliniel tried imagining Laerlin young and smitten by a dashing stranger. The scene incited a faint smile across her face. “How was he like? Adar, I mean,” she asked in return.

Idhrenol pondered the question then began to chuckle to himself. “I have just realised that I do not know how to properly describe him. Adar was a stern yet patient soul, level-headed when he needed to be, yet he could also incite such esteem and enthusiasm in you. Gwaewcol was his name. He has eyes of the clearest blue- a colour that we three inherited- and his voice resonates with such certainty. I wish Amaron and you could have had the chance to remember him. He recently appeared to lead me to you but alas! he could no longer stay among us.”

Eliniel vaguely remembered the other person at the fountain terrace months ago. She replayed Idhrenol’s words. Something he said earlier returned to pick at her attention. “Queen Melian had been reluctant to explain something to me. If you say that adar has a might beyond the elves, was it his doing that night at the borders of Doriath?”

Idhrenol hesitated. “Nay, it was you,” he said slowly.

“No, that is a lie!” gasped Eliniel with disbelief. “You could not know that it was me.” Distress decanted into her once more as the truth she has made herself believe began to crumble.

“I speak the truth, little one, as I have promised you. Even you have suspected yourself behind that deed though you do not say it aloud,” he replied gently. “Eliniel, we each have a strength that the Eldar has never seen before and they will not be revealed openly unless the need is so dire.’  
‘Yours, I know for certain, have been bound since you were young, for you were a spirited child, unlike your brother. Adar, upon naneth’s persuasion, had suppressed your gift until the day you learn sensible control. But you have always been strong as well, so maybe the events of that night had indeed demanded a part of you to break free. Even adar has never contradicted this possibility.”

“Stop!” cried Eliniel. “Stop this! You are asking too much from me.”

“I am sorry.”

“But are you at fault? I cannot tell,” said Eliniel, her voice cracking. “At first, I must admit that a sliver of my heart was secretly glad to have kin. Then, you reveal to me that my own mother had deliberately ceased to share with me who we truly are.’  
‘I may understand the choices that she was forced to make if I try but it cannot be denied why she hid it from me for so long. This implies how little trust she had in me! Or are you feeding me with lies? Because you are asking me to believe that naneth and I are someone else entirely,” she cried. Pain was now coursing hot through her veins.  
“Do you also mean to say that this one act that could have saved Tûon, even naneth’s life, was something that I could have wielded better? Why did she not bare all of this to me so long ago? If she did, none of this would have happened! I would not need to be…alone.” Eliniel’s voice trailed off. 

Idhrenol looked at her with pity. Grief was slowly etching itself across his fair face. “I mean not to hurt you, Eliniel,” he said. “Knowing that you live still should have been a sufficient contentment to me. I am sorry I cannot take back all that I have said today though they are the truth.” He took a deep breath, as if something laboured him. “Go, my little one,” he continued, “to rid yourself of my presence, if you must. I shall not even be a shadow to you in Doriath should you wish it but I promise you that I will be there if you ever need me again.”

Eliniel looked hard at Idhrenol, remembering how she has come to treasure him as a friend. Now he was a long-lost kin who has given her tidings that rattled her core. Tears held resolutely thus far were beating her to dissolve in resignation. 

‘Walk away, Eliniel,’ said a small voice in her mind. Without a further word, she stood up and walked out of Parth Estel.


	21. Chapter 21

An unearthly fog trickled across the dark plain. From the scant moonlight, thousands of the enemy could be seen marching from the mountain ranges across the river. Their armour was dull but their weapons gleamed for the promise of blood.

The stoic Haladin watched as the orcs gathered. About two furlongs behind the men stood the army of Doriath. Heavy infantry made up the frontline of the elves, ready to fortify the men’s columns should it collapse. The great Beleg Cúthalion stood at the helm of Doriath’s contingent.

Upon a hilltop in the distance, Idhrenol watched the battlefield come into formation. He no longer heeded the incident from five days ago where he had watched Eliniel walk away from him. That ache of loss has been forcefully boarded up for another time’s reflection, alongside the weak moment when he had buried his head into his hands and whispered for Gwaewcol to help him.

The captain and his other Watchers from Nargothrond assessed the numbers pulled by each side. His selected company of fifty have received instructions from Finrod Felagund himself. Each of them was clear about the conditions mutually understood by Doriath and Nargothrond- that the Watcher may only involve themselves should the situation at hand be absolutely dire. “Our kingdom must not be at risk of going to any war. Help them end it if they cannot do so,” Finrod had said.

The elves and men saw the enemy halting a short distance away. For the longest moment, they stood like sentinels until a visceral roar in the gloom provoked the orcs to charge. The stomping of armoured feet reverberated across the plain like thunder, later punctuated by the cold ringing of brandished blades. Arrows flew in thick clouds from both sides.

The Watchers could see the enemy seeping like spilled ink across the darkened plain. With a mighty roar, the two sides clashed. One was motivated by bloodlust and the other was fuelled by the indignation of having their homeland invaded.

Idhrenol observed the exchange, deaf by necessity to the screams of horror and valour twisting into the night sky. He was intrigued by the battalion of orcs standing quietly in the mountain’s shadows.

The Haladin braved their assault with passionate battle cries. For each of their own that was taken, wrath fuelled their attacks to impale two more orcs upon their spears. They cut down the enemy like a field of reeds, fracturing their lines.

But suddenly, the reserved battalion of orcs stirred and hundreds moved in to join the battle. Their renewed numbers began to squelch the men, driving them backwards to Doriath’s line.

Beleg gave the orders and the heavy infantry mobilised into the fray. They lent the men resistance, then a push where hundreds of orcs were hewn down. Bodies littered the ground, impeding both sides from exacting a final charge. Doriath sent in more strength and with Haldan, chief of the Haladin, they advanced. Tides began to turn.

Idhrenol studied the armies from where he stood. He could see victory close to their grasp until something from the corner of his eye stole his attention.

There was a stirring in the recesses of the mountains. A horn suddenly bellowed a long, vile note into the night. The ground started to rumble and a feeling of foreboding came over Idhrenol.

Out of the darkness, ranks upon ranks of orcs poured forth, burgeoning their army to twice of what they had started with. Several of the Watchers started standing straighter and Idhrenol could feel his own jaw set.

The surge of the refreshed enemy lines smashed into the eastern and western flank of Beleg’s army, crumbling his defences there. Swiftly, the lines of men and elves were divided into lonesome isles. Seeing the disaster upon them, the command to fall back rippled across Beleg and Haldan’s armies. Heated orders to fortify their ranks followed. But the enemy kept on blustering through the sluggish retreat.

Idhrenol quickly read the stakes of their armies. Several of the lonesome isles were beginning to unite but their progress was painfully slow. Doriath still has a small reserve in the rear guard which was only starting to mobilise. They may still emerge victorious in the end, but the cost would be great; greater if they were unable to regroup in time from a harrying enemy. A reprieve of even a few minutes could let them press on again with a renewed strategy. He turned towards his line of Watchers.

These fifty Nargothrond warriors were among the strongest in their kingdom’s army. Together, they could provide enough of a distraction. ‘But would joining the fray now incur Thingol’s displeasure?’ thought Idhrenol before he faced his company.

“Defenders of Nargothrond, listen well!” he commanded. “You will help Doriath and the Men buy time. Ride now to distract the enemy and cut down those as far as your sword can reach. Refrain from close combat unless by need, for this victory shall remain theirs.”

To his second-in-command, Idhrenol said, “Legrin, take half our numbers and circle the eastern side. I will take the west and meet you in the middle. There, we will punch our way through to join the main fold. If I should fall, I trust that you will make the best decision for our people and liege.”

Idhrenol donned his helm and spurred his stallion into a gallop down the hill. As he approached the battlefield, he drew his blade which was aglow with a fiery light. In a deadly sweep, orc heads rolled and their bodies thudded to the ground.

Each Watcher behind Idhrenol followed suite, carving the rim of the enemy’s mass as they rode past. The movements on the plain began to shift as orcs started heeding this new attack. Horns from both sides were blown. At last, Doriath’s retreat was moving faster.

Idhrenol soon saw Legrin approaching ahead. With a signal, he veered sharply into the fray, breaking the orc lines from within. Carnage followed, for the ground was smoking and the sky was filled with condors. Upon their exit, the company riders looked back to survey the flattened path which they have just made. 

Idhrenol reined his horse in and noted that the elves and men have recomposed their assault. But Beleg was nowhere in sight.

Searching the swarm of fighting figures, Idhrenol saw the Doriath captain holding up a flagging column at the front. Chagrin coloured the captain’s face as he continued to cut down orcs at a vicious, alarming rate.

Idhrenol leaped off his stallion and sent it away. Gripping his broadsword with both hands, he made a quick series of wide arc attacks, searing away the section most clogged with orcs, gradually but surely cutting a way towards his friend.

Blood was spattered across Beleg’s armour, both black and vivid red. There were also plenty of scores on it by glanced blades and arrowheads. The number of carcasses that lay upon his feet served as proof that he has been unrelenting. Idhrenol looked up to find Beleg ducking a hit. The orc overbalanced and Beleg bent to smash his shoulder into its gut, flipping it over before plunging his sword into its chest.

Now with his friend in sight, the Nargothrond captain kicked an opponent away and thrust the point of his broadsword into its armour’s crevice. Sidestepping a hammer blow, Idhrenol skirted around the orc and slashed its back. He moved on to parry a strike from a short spear, drawing out his long knife to stab the enemy in the thigh before taking its head off in a backhand swipe with the sword. He shoved the body ahead, sending it crashing into the enemy circle surrounding Beleg.

Instantly, multiple disfigured heads turned towards him. Idhrenol made a quick calculation of the fight before him. Two on his left and three on his right were moving in.

First, he dodged the path of a hurtling mace. With a quick decision, he swerved to the left and delivered an upward slash to a pike-wielding orc before sinking his long knife into the neck of another. Using the broadsword, Idhrenol impaled the same orc and used the body as a shield to ward of the three charging masses on his right side.

Once that attack was scattered, he yanked both blades free but more enemy numbers swarmed the captain from behind. Orcs hammered his back plate and the wind escaped his lungs.

As he collapsed under their weight, Idhrenol plunged his broadsword into the ground to steady himself against the barrage of strikes. His helm slipped off. The roars for his blood was deafening in that huddle.

Gritting his teeth, Idhrenol flipped his long knife and stabbed it into an exposed thigh on his left. Then, with a battle cry of strength, he forced himself to stand. 

He reached out to grab an orc by the neck, slamming it to the ground. Quickly sheathing the long knife, he pulled out the glowing broadsword in the bloody earth and with a two-handed wield, cut off two heads. Right ahead, Idhrenol saw his friend looking back at him.

“You are late,” said Beleg as he proceeded to block another attack.

“I didn’t think you need me.”

“I don’t.”

“The situation looks otherwise, my friend,” returned Idhrenol after he cut the legs from beneath a charging orc.

Beleg grinned. “Then start helping me, captain!”


	22. Chapter 22

Eliniel stirred in her bed. She has forgotten how long it was since her return from Parth Estel. She lifted her head and listened, guessing that it must be late although she wasn’t very confident.

Doubt. Doubt was something she was well-acquainted with of late and it frightened her. ‘I need to get out of this chamber,’ she thought.

Slowly, Eliniel sat out of her bed, feeling the numbness rolling within her like a ponderous beast. She walked to her door as if anchors were tied to her feet and hesitated.

She remembered the day she had shut herself in her chambers. When she had stormed past Hareth and Belron like a thundercloud, they had expressed bewilderment which turned into worry, an emotion which Eliniel has seen too often on their faces since last winter. They had come in each day to try and speak with her yet their voices were but mere whispers. She was not proud of how she had acted but she felt no more ready to face them now. 

Eliniel put her ear to the door. There was only silence beyond so she cracked it open a sliver. Seeing no one, she hurriedly left the accommodation. She allowed her feet to guide her while old and recent memories distracted her mind. She recalled her quiet days with Laerlin, her recurring dreams which have now ceased, the deaths and her happier times with Idhrenol. Each of them vied for attention.

‘Idhrenol,’ she thought when she saw guards of the kingdom at Menegroth’s great gates. The two marchwardens watched Eliniel pass them into the night, one of them acknowledging her with a curt nod.

There was a chill in the air, heralding the advent of winter. Eliniel unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself, her thoughts lingering upon that day at Parth Estel. ‘If Idhrenol had not revealed the things he knew, would I have been a leaf drifting at the mercy of the winds, oblivious until the end? Why did naneth think that she could not trust me with the truth?’ she asked herself.

Eliniel stopped, finally recognising where her wandering has led her. She stood at the centre of a ring of beeches, rays of moonlight penetrating through the leaves of a great tree of three equally girthed trunks. Here, she sat, sinking into the deep grass with fatigue.

“Even the outrage that I have felt has left me,” she whispered into the night. At first, she had worried if her sanity had been taxed by that dissipation. But Eliniel knew the real reason to be less dramatic. Laerlin’s insistence on going to Doriath, Tûon’s tale, her dreams and finally her recollection of her brother’s name which she had never heard uttered elsewhere were all pieces of a larger story; and they collectively suggested that Idhrenol may have been truthful. All except on one account, the last account.

Eliniel was also finding it difficult to deny that a sliver of her, albeit a growing one, did not want Idhrenol to become a stranger. She could picture herself wholeheartedly accepting who he really was; and it made her feel ashamed of how she had acted toward him in Parth Estel. 

She looked around the peaceful garden. “The earth will share my tears, the winds above will lift my heart and the trees around will protect me,” recited Eliniel. “Oh naneth, tell me if I am crafting the truth I wish to see. Or is this it?”

Ahead, moonlight illuminated a figure walking towards her. Eliniel started at the sight but soon realised that it was one of the marchwardens she had seen earlier at the kingdom gates. She watched him approach, noticing his strong frame and long, purposeful stride before he stopped a short distance away. His eyes were a very clear blue.

Before Eliniel could utter a word, the stranger walked forward, unhooked his cloak and gently put it around her. “It is not wise to wander then stay in the forest without a thing to stave off the growing chill, be they around or within you,” he said. His voice was deep and reassuring.

Eliniel reached out to grasp the cloak, suddenly feeling the cold upon her skin. Their hands brushed and she gasped.

Before her eyes, she saw a burst of moving images. The first showed Laerlin walking hand in hand with someone along a sandy shore in the twilight. Then the scene blurred into one where a handsome elf was parrying blows with a very young Idhrenol. Without pausing, it changed again to another where the same elf was proudly holding two babes in his arms; after which the sequence evolved to show him hugging a little girl, whispering, “You must remember, my beloved Eliniel, that you are stronger than you deem yourself to be.” There was a golden orb that passed between them.

Another rush of images brought the sounds of crashing buildings and Eliniel saw this elf standing before a looming balrog who later uttered a terrible threat. A white light blinded her eyes, fading slowly to then reveal a dying Laerlin smiling weakly to the one cradling her. The latter’s face was forged with grief as Laerlin touched his cheek. “Do not be sorry, Gwaewcol. I chose this fate with you and I will do it again. Walk with me now,” she said.

The sequence blinked back into the quiet forest. ‘Memories,’ thought Eliniel. She saw it all. Though each one ostensibly ran for a length, she realised that the marchwarden has only just circled around her, his profound eyes reflecting apprehension.

Instinctively, she knew. He looked different now but Eliniel was certain as she slowly got to her feet. She felt no trace of fear or doubt as the word tumbled from her lips. “Adar.”

Gwaewcol smiled and remained patiently where he was, as if to give his daughter space. “Idhrenol speaks the truth then?” Eliniel asked quietly.

“You already know this in your heart.”

Eliniel broke her gaze. “And naneth could not tell me. There were so many chances where she could have said something. I could have shared her burden.”

Gwaewcol’s expression softened. “Fear, Eliniel. I believe it is something you now know too well, unfortunately. It was the obstinate fear of a mother who had refused to allow the darkness to take her child, especially after a foolish husband had chosen to reveal himself and indirectly, his family.”

She stood looking into his clear eyes. Eliniel remembered Idhrenol’s description of their father. “He is of the winds,” the elf had said. 

Slowly, realisation set in. All along, the winds have always alleviated her sorrows. ‘The winds will lift my heart…Perhaps that was what naneth had meant. In a way, I have always known him,’ she thought.

“Foolish or not, naneth has forgiven you,” Eliniel said softly. Gwaewcol hid any hints of surprise and she believed that he had allowed her to glimpse into his well of memories. “Why are you here?”

“You believe all of the truths spoken except for one.”

The elf-maiden harked back to the night at the borders of Doriath, her last skepticism. A chill beyond that of the climate pierced her. “That is impossible,” she whispered.

Gwaewcol smiled in amusement. “You are my child. That should have been impossible.” He took a step towards her. “You have delved into my memories. What do you recall of you and me?”

She recalled Gwaewcol whispering to a very young elfling. “You told me that I am stronger than I deem myself to be. Queen Melian and Idhrenol have said the same,” she replied.

“Because that is the truth. The day you had manifested your capabilities, you managed to throw poor Idhrenol five fathoms away! It had Laerlin worried, for you were such a feisty child. You knew not how to control it and was certainly too young to understand the need to,” explained Gwaewcol. “Your mother had asked me to bind it but then, that dark day came and the act was never undone. I had worried although I should have believed that you were always tenacious enough to defy it. So here I am, as a regretful father, to return to you what you were owed.”

Eliniel stared at him, turmoil bubbling in her stomach. “What if I do not wish it?”

Gwaewcol sighed, a smile upon his lips. “If not today, my dearest Eliniel, then one day, sooner or later and even without me, it will be returned to you.”

“The destruction it had brought was terrible and I wasn’t even controlling it!” exclaimed Eliniel. “What if, one day, I forge something worse?”

He moved to touch her cheek, visibly glad that Eliniel did not back away. “I have watched you grow all your life,” he assured. “Your heart at its core is kind. And I also trust the people who will protect and love you like I do. Yes, the power can indeed be terrible, though some may deem it beautiful or necessary. But I believe that you will learn to tell the difference.”

Eliniel exhaled, closing her eyes in an attempt to digest the situation. But suddenly, she felt a shift in the air. Billowing winds touched her skin yet the chill did not shrivel her. When she opened her eyes, Eliniel gasped at what she saw.

She and Gwaewcol were standing upon the precipice of a jagged, slate mountainside. Sections of the peak were tipped with snow. Before them was an ocean of spires standing at different heights, piercing the thick, pink clouds heralding a robust sunrise. Large eagles weaved around them, flying free in the laving winds.

Eliniel turned to Gwaewcol, who suddenly looked youthful under this golden sky. He was grinning with pride. “There are no words to describe the emotion one feels when they are up here,” he said softly.

“Where are we?”

“At the origin of the winds.”

“Is this real?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Even if it is just in your mind, who is to deny that it isn’t?”

Eliniel frowned as she considered her father’s words. She returned her gaze towards the view before her. “Where does this leave me, adar?” she asked instead.

“It leaves you on your feet towards your destiny. This is who you are born to become, my Eliniel, an Eldar who is twice entwined to the earth,” answered Gwaewcol. “Perhaps, you may come to help many in time.”

“The things I saw that night were terrifying. Are you certain that I will know how to wield this strength?” she pressed.

“The doubt you harbour over accepting it assures me that you will use your gift wisely,” he said. “However, I do not know if it will make you complete, for that will depend on you.”

Eliniel walked to the edge of the precipice, exultation instead of fear brimming in her heart. The lands below suddenly seemed so sharp and so clear to her. In the distance, Eliniel thought she saw two elves fighting side by side, leading a column of soldiers in a vicious battle. When one of the two turned his head, she immediately recognised his face.

Gwaewcol came up beside her and followed her gaze. “My Eliniel, you must allow Idhrenol and Amaron to earn your trust. And if you are willing, your love,” he said to her.

“And what if I come to love them in return?” asked Eliniel after a pause.

Her father smiled ruefully as he placed his hand on her shoulder. “I know your darkest fear, my poor, sweet daughter. But you must not allow it to become your cage,” answered Gwaewcol. “A life where you have loved and are loved in return is worth more than a thousand distant ones. I would know, although you need not take my word for it.”

Eliniel made no reply in case she broke down. He was not the first to refer to her vulnerability although she realised that Gwaewcol may be the only one who has heard her uttered despair during moments of solitude. She glanced at him and he smiled paternally in return.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Not really,” admitted Eliniel. Unknowingly, she wrapped her fingers around Gwaewcol’s arm.

He laughed as he took her hands and gave it a slight squeeze. “That is, fortunately, enough.”

Eliniel felt something strike her gently within her chest. Her eyes widened in alarm and she looked frantically to Gwaewcol who nodded once. “The winds will embrace you,” he assured her as he took a few steps back. “Just let yourself fall.”

Gathering her courage, the elf-maiden turned back uncertainly towards the vista of spires. In her mind’s eye, she could see a flame kindle in her heart, the light spreading from within her being. Suddenly, she could hear strains of a hopeful melody, layered with a mesmerizing chorus of voices, growing clearer and louder.

Eliniel turned her head upwards and saw the dome of stars opening their eyes to her despite the brightening sky. She marvelled at the beautiful and humbling sight. Then seemingly out of nowhere, an eagle zipped around her to join its family flying on her left. Each was catching the playful wind, the same wind that she could now feel with amazing acuity dancing upon her skin. The currents picked up strength, heralding an impending gale. 

She raised a hand to touch the rushing wisps of clouds, their forms burning quickly in the warmth. Beneath her fingertips, she saw a golden light grow brighter until it burst into an orb of blinding radiance that surrounded her.

Then the winds collided into the mountainside. Eliniel could feel life tremor within the storm as it swirled around her. The song in her heart turned joyous, capricious and strong. Her soul danced and the world seemed to fall in step with her. Liberation filled Eliniel’s spirit as she felt it soar into the vast sky! The melody continued, majestic before it began to steady and at last, fade. 

Gradually, the storm passed, leaving the finest drizzle in its wake. The fire coursing in her veins burned lower. The brilliance upon her skin faded, displaced by the rays of a rising sun. Her feet felt the rocky ground. Turning around, she saw Gwaewcol approaching her. He stretched out a hand to touch her cool cheek.

“I understand that this does not pardon my absence as a father, but I do hope that I have helped you believe a little more of who you are…who we are,” he said as he kissed her forehead. “Though my eyes are ever upon you three, look out for your brothers, Eliniel, for you only have each other. Alas! we shall not meet again in this life, for I must now bow out. And if you ever forget, remember that I love you.”

“I know that you will always be there when I need you,” replied Eliniel as she reached out to embrace Gwaewcol. It was a moment later when she felt the winds die down abruptly and the light around them brightening. In a blink, she found herself lying on the deep grass back in Hirilorn.

She sat up but realised that the marchwarden’s cloak was still wrapped around her. Puzzled, she recalled everything she has just seen and heard. Each detail was as clear as day.

“In a way, what you have just experienced could be considered a dream,” a voice from behind her said. Shocked, Eliniel whirled around to see Melian sitting gracefully on a raised knee of Hirilorn. “Regardless, it did occur, Eliniel Faeveren,” she continued with a mysterious smile.

The elf-maiden pondered a while in silence. “Was all of this the reason I was taught to come to Doriath?” she asked.

Melian nodded in assent. “Yes, although Laerlin had taken a gamble in this decision. Take your time to understand, for you have come to learn much about yourself.”

Eliniel slowly got to her feet and proceeded to pull the cloak closer to keep away the chill. She could feel Melian’s eyes on her. “My lady, may I ask if you have news of Idhre-“

“Sedryn’s return?” interrupted Melian pointedly. “Yes, they have all returned to Doriath’s borders at dawn.”

Eliniel looked at Melian in confusion at first, until she remembered the reason for her brother’s alias. Then guilt fell heavily in her heart. “I fear meeting him again after how we had parted. I am not sure if I could even speak to him.”

“But you must, my child! You have occupied a part of his thoughts each day for the last four centuries. At the very least, you owe him a goodbye,” answered Melian as she approached Eliniel.

The elf-maiden hesitated but she knew that the queen spoke the truth. Gwaewcol’s parting words at the land of spires returned to her. She felt Melian’s hand on her shoulder.

“Eliniel, this could be a chance, a second one, to begin a beautiful life. You should take it,” said Melian as they strolled out of Hirilorn into the rosy sunrise.


	23. Chapter 23

The great hall was alive with the celebration of victory. The walls were decked with banners, the tables were overflowing and the air was a chorus of tributes as the elves of Doriath rejoiced and remembered their dead. 

Beleg and Idhrenol sat in a corner, surrounded by a group of leaders and a few Watchers of Nargothrond. Every so often, a Doriath marchwarden will raise his glass in quiet salute to Idhrenol, for they had witnessed him alongside Beleg, leading their banners into the final victory.

Idhrenol drank his fill after another came to toast with the small group. He could feel the weight of his other predicament bearing down on him now that the battle was over.  
“I know that look upon your face,” remarked Beleg out of a sudden.

Idhrenol groaned. “I have not changed my mind, Beleg, even though I will admit to the might of your army.”

Beleg laughed. “Alas! for me then. Yet, you have misconstrued my words, my dear friend.” Idhrenol raised an eyebrow, cynicism inevitably brewing already while he waited to hear this new and potentially misguided deduction.

“It is obvious that your concern is not of the battle, for if it was, I would not see it weigh heavier upon you now. Nay, this has to be about someone. A maiden, perhaps?” mused Beleg.

The conversations at their table audibly reduced of all a sudden. Several heads turned and Idhrenol followed their line of sight, only to see Eliniel standing shyly before them. There was something implacable about her to his eyes.

“Lady Faeveren!” greeted Beleg amicably before adding very quietly to Idhrenol. “Remember what I said during the boar hunt, my friend.”

The Nargothrond captain threw Beleg a withering look which only made the latter grin further as he bowed respectfully to Eliniel. After excusing himself, Idhrenol guided his long-lost sister out of the great hall.

“You look terrible,” she said once they were out in the corridor.

“I do?” answered Idhrenol, puzzled. “But the Crossings was not the worst battle I have been embroiled in.”

“I doubt that the cause is the battle. But there is something different about you,” she returned, her manner reflecting guilt.

“I have to say the same about you, too.”

Eliniel gave a wan smile in reply. “I saw you on the battlefield last night,” she said after a while. “You had moved beautifully and you were fearsome to behold. It is no wonder so many scatter before you.”

Idhrenol was baffled. “How did you see me?”

There was a moment of hesitation. “Adar came to me,” she answered in the end. “In a dream or otherwise, I still cannot tell.”

Suddenly, Idhrenol understood. Many questions sprang to his mind but Eliniel continued, her voice tinted with anxiety. “I must apologize for how I had acted. There are no excuses to justify it.”

“There is nothing to blame for how you felt.”

She looked sheepish at his reply. “Then may we begin again?”

“I would love to,” said Idhrenol. Relief flooded his heart at her promising words.

“How?” she asked, before bursting into a quiet laugh.

“That depends on you,” said Idhrenol, glad that the tension has ebbed. “We could take up from where we left off if that makes you more comfortable.”

Eliniel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Or?” she asked, her tone uncertain.

The elf wondered if he was so easy to read. “I must admit that I also have the intention of asking you to return to Nargothrond with me.”

There was a pause. Oddly, Eliniel did not seem surprised and Idhrenol decided to take that as a good sign. “I realise that it is selfish,” he continued, “for I greatly hope to offer you another life with our small family, although it may not be the one you desire. Doubtless Hareth and Belron greatly constitutes your family already.’  
‘However, if you choose to leave us one day or the next to travel further to the western cities, the journey would have been halved and I would feel better knowing that it was safe. Either way, Nargothrond could take you away from the grief that has scalded you, even if only for a while.”

Idhrenol read the worry flashing in her eyes and he remembered. “I am sure that Amaron is just as nervous to meet you,” he added.

Eliniel sighed quietly and glanced at Idhrenol. “I would have refused to admit that Doriath has given me grief had I not been the one who had described the exact sentiment to you. Your words are igniting hope in my heart but please understand when I say that I will require time to consider your offer. Much has happened in the past year…I do not wish them to cloud my mind and lead to capricious decisions again.”

“Of course,” answered Idhrenol. He could feel a weight lifted off his heart. “I will not have it any other way, either.”

Eliniel nodded to him with a grateful smile and retreated down the hallway. Once she turned the corner, Idhrenol let out a long sigh. “Thank you, adar,” he whispered into the night.

He returned to his table in the great hall with a heart teeming with hope. Beleg saw his approach and indicated it to Legrin but only one of them displayed his curiosity openly.

“So, I was right. It was all about her,” said Beleg. His tone was sincere.

Idhrenol beamed. “Only this time, my friend,” he answered. “Now at last, I have found my sister.”

 

 

Eliniel watched Belron sling her pack over his shoulder. “You must have added quite a few items to your possessions,” he remarked.

“Only noticeable when you own so few to begin with,” she laughed in return. “The loremaster had insisted that I keep the two volumes. Blame me, for I could not resist accepting!”

“Are you sure you do not want us to go with you?” asked Hareth as she passed her friend a thick cloak.

Eliniel shook her head. “I think this is something I should weather on my own, my dear friend,” she replied. The three of them left their quarters and made their unhurried way towards Menegroth’s main courtyard. 

It was a few days after her meeting with Idhrenol in the great hall when Eliniel had finally confessed her troubles to Hareth and Belron. She had told them of her greatest fear and guilt, and then her decision to go to Nargothrond. From her friends’ composure at the news, Eliniel believed that they had somewhat expected her actions.

“We know how much this place pains you, Faeveren. If you have to leave it, for a while or longer, then both of us will stand by your decision. Yet, allow us to demand something in return,” they had said. “Assure us that you do not have a single reservation in trusting Lord Sedryn.”

Eliniel had already known that imparting some of the truth to her friends was going to be inevitable. She had thought long beforehand on how to disclose Idhrenol’s claim and her conviction of it without betraying her family’s secret and ancestry. Hareth and Belron had been predictably shocked by the shared tidings, but once out of that momentary stupor, they had given her their faith.

The friends halted at the eaves of the courtyard, feeling the cold wind caress their faces. There were twenty marchwardens from Nargothrond ready to depart as well. The remaining number had already returned a fortnight ago when the battle was won.

Eliniel looked back to the delved city of Menegroth, memorising the marvel that was harboured within the multiple levels. She could hear whispers of conversations falling down gently from the higher floors.

But in a blink, the whispers suddenly grew louder. Her heart quickened. ‘Oh no,’ she thought in alarm. 

The same phenomenon had occurred a week ago in the early hours of dawn. She had heard the galloping of horses in her chamber as if they were just behind her. Those few seconds had cowed her heart.

Eliniel started to sweat in panic. She thought she could feel her skin crawl.

“Faeveren!” someone called. Eliniel snapped her head around to see Hareth observing her with concern.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” answered Eliniel determinedly. She felt the prickling of her skin subside. “I am only capturing a memory of this place.”

“You speak as if you will not be back,” said Belron with a frown.

“That is because you remain here to deter me,” returned Eliniel without missing a beat.

Belron’s eyes widened from the retort before he began to laugh. “I have taught you too well, it seems.”

Soon, Eliniel saw Idhrenol leading two horses into the courtyard. He smiled when he saw her and nodded in greeting to her friends.

Eliniel exhaled. “Well, this is it.”

“Take care of yourself,” said Belron as he gave her a hug. “We truly hope that this journey will help you, Faeveren.”

“I hope so, too. Keep out of trouble, Belron,” reminded Eliniel. He has begun patrolling the kingdom’s borders with the marchwardens of Doriath.

Hareth embraced her childhood friend. “We will miss you. Remember that you will always have a home with us should you not find it out there.”

Eliniel took her bag and drew in a deep breath before walking towards the gathered cavalry. Excitement fluttered in her heart as she took her horse’s reins from Idhrenol. A light gust blew across the courtyard.

“He is with us,” she said to her brother. 

“He has always been,” replied Idhrenol as he glanced skywards.

Together, they started to move out with the rest. Prior to crossing the gates’ threshold, Eliniel turned back and waved farewell to her friends.


	24. Chapter 24

Shadows deepened in the folds of the Andram mountains. Aelin-Uial was now two days behind in their journey home.

From a distance, Idhrenol could pick out the rock formations shielding the kingdom’s major eastern post. It was a camouflaged, unadorned structure where parapets, towers and even a complex of chambers have been built directly into the mountain. The way to this monolithic keep was known only by those who had been trained in the Nargothrond march.

The company rode up the gangway and through an archway of stone before entering the mustering ground surrounded by a colonnade that led on to numerous rooms. Idhrenol saw their commander call for a halt and each marchwarden dispersed methodically into their tasks like clockwork. He cast a glance behind to Eliniel, who was dismounting with the help of another. 

Thus far, he has only told the truth of her identity to three captains who were brave enough to voice the question. Idhrenol has failed to see any reason for announcing it since he believed that word will spread regardless.

He heard Eliniel emphatically assuring a stablehand that she could tend to her own horse. He waved away a groom and led his own stallion towards her. “The stables are this way,” he said.

Eliniel followed him and they began working in silence. Idhrenol could see that she was exhausted since she had barely slept since departing Doriath. There had been an edginess to her demeanour during their travel, save the time when the company was passing close to Tûon’s cairn. Only then was her expression an unreadable mask. For the nights on the road, Idhrenol had accompanied her until she was tired out.

“Alright, one more just for you,” whispered Eliniel conspiratorially, breaking the silence.

He craned his neck to see her pull out an apple from her sack to give it to her new horse, Thandin. Idhrenol’s own steed snorted in protest which made Eliniel laugh.

She pulled out another fruit and gave it to the majestic stallion. “Very well, Rovalon. But I shall not tolerate the next time when you show no grace!” said Eliniel.

“He has unrivalled courage on the battlefield but off it, he can sometimes behave like a foal,” said Idhrenol as he gave Rovalon a reprimanding eye. “How are you, Eliniel?”

“I have made longer journeys,” she answered lightly. “This one is easy and far more interesting.”

Idhrenol couldn’t help feeling that her enthusiasm was a little forced. “There is still a distance before home,” he replied. “We will be travelling northwards along these mountains for the next three days, depending on the conditions. Once we come to the narrowest point between the Narog and Ginglith rivers, we shall make our way across. The city is a straight path southwards from there.”

Eliniel nodded and resumed rubbing down the chestnut stallion. “Do you think naneth had ever considered that you might be residing in Nargothrond?”

“Doubtless she would have. Yet, a hunch is not enough to remove both of you from a place she considered safe.”

“Naneth, the ever pragmatic.”

“She wasn’t always as strict as you have known her to be. War had definitely changed her like it did to everyone else. But before that, adar and her were such a carefree, adventurous twosome. Of course, she was still the more even-tempered. Your twin brother inherited much of naneth’s demeanour, whereas you were a little more like adar,” said Idhrenol.

Eliniel pondered his words while pouring water into the trough for the horses. “Who is Amaron in Nargothrond?”

“Huindîr,” corrected Idhrenol. “Especially vital now that we are out in the open. Melian offers us protection no longer.” Eliniel nodded her comprehension.

“He is a marchwarden,” continued Idhrenol. “He leads his own company although under the banner of another lord. Huindîr could have earned his rank to lead his own host but our younger brother spends quite a measure of his time with the healers as well.”

“What is his gift?”

“Much like yours in nature, I believe, although he can manipulate the terra better. He will be the best person to guide you. Last I remembered, you pack quite a bit of force,” laughed Idhrenol as he set bales of hay before the horses. “You were an irritable toddler that night and adar had suggested that I took you for a short stroll in the garden lest you woke your brother. You had thrown me over a fence once I had settled you into a chair! I think adar had deliberately set me up. He must have already known you could do that.”

She sniffed disbelievingly in reply. “What about you? What do you possess within?”

Idhrenol shook his head. “I am nothing terribly unique, perhaps only a little more durable. But strength can be honed.”

“I don’t believe it!” replied an incredulous Eliniel as they exited the stables.

“Believe it, little one. I am only as strong as people judge me to be,” he returned.

“Impossible! I have seen you on a battlefield,” protested Eliniel until Idhrenol gave her a wink. She laughed ruefully at her gullibility. 

As they walked along the colonnade of stone towards the main complex, Idhrenol saw other captains hailing him ahead. “I will join you shortly. Make your way through that arch and take any of the prepared chambers on the sixth level.” His sister nodded and disappeared down the indicated route.

“Lord Sedryn, would you like to join us today?” asked one of the elves when Idhrenol approached them.

“Nay, Arahael, not today,” he answered. “My route is back to Nargothrond. Whence were your company?”

“From the city; and we will be heading to the south, towards the Falls of Sirion. There are reports of orcs with wolves. Such sightings are rare but it is best we keep them that way. We take your leave, my lord.”

Idhrenol nodded and continued on to receive reports from the scouts in the post. All was quiet in the nearby lands and city. He made a last stop to affirm that he had not been given watch duty before climbing the steps up to the sixth floor. At this eastern post, marchwardens and captains stayed together on the floor assigned based on when they arrive.

Towards the end of the stairs, he could see soft firelight cascading out into the hallway from the numerous chambers. He passed one where a small flame was burning, illuminating a maiden’s dark hair waving lazily in the night’s breeze. 

Eliniel stood by a narrow window overlooking the rippling view of the Long Wall. Where the ranges sloped lower, the breathtaking scene extended to the direction of Nan-Tathren and the mouths of Sirion. She looked tense.

“You know that you are safe here, do you not?” he asked as he came to stand beside her.

“I do,” she replied quietly. “Although that was also what all of us had thought when we were so close to Doriath.”

“Some fears are worth letting go, little one. Each of us in this keep now is capable of leading their own armed host.”

“And you a legion,” added Eliniel with a faint smile.

Idhrenol laughed. “Will that be enough for you then?” he asked. “Though I hope that such a day will never arrive, Eliniel, you have the ability within you to protect cities.”

Instead of replying, a slight frown crossed Eliniel’s face and she suddenly jerked her head to the east, a startled look in her eyes. “What is it?” asked Idhrenol.

She gradually turned back to him. “It is nothing,” she replied as she stepped away from the window and sat on a divan. “Will you tell me more about Brithon? I remember the grounds most clearly from the dreams but they tell me nothing of the atmosphere.”

Idhrenol observed Eliniel a moment longer, wondering if he should press her for what just occurred. But he knew that there was a possibility that she would further evade him if he did. 

“You have remembered a day in summer. The memory was probably retained because it was a wonderful time to be in Brithon,” he answered instead as he passed her a blanket from a chest. “Our town was quiet and peaceful, unlike the city of Brithombar. Yet, our folk really knew how to celebrate festivities when it came.’  
‘In the week approaching Midsummers, the town’s loremaster would take his seat in one corner of the great quadrangle and tell stories to the elflings while others set up tents around the fountain. Come the day, everyone would be merrymaking to feasts and dance and sing from one dawn until the next!’  
‘The year before Briton was destroyed, you were so excited to be amongst the crowds that you had refused to return home. In the end, we had sat under a great oak tree and watched the night sky. Do you remember making me name all the stars to you?”

Idhrenol turned to look at Eliniel and found her eyes shut, her breathing even. “By the time I was midway, you had already fallen asleep,” he said quietly with a fond smile.

He stood up to pull the blankets over her then settled back into his chair. Leaning back, he watched the shimmering vault of the night sky and began humming an old melody until sleep wrapped around him.


	25. Chapter 25

The winter afternoon was crisp. Spring seemed a distant promise for snow still clung tightly onto the branches of trees as the company rode past. Eliniel felt uncomfortable although it was not the weather that discomfited her. There was a creeping sensation upon her skin which she couldn’t quite shake off plus the ringing in her ears.

The maiden watched the columns of marchwardens riding around her, all held in disciplined uniformity. No one else seemed to share the sensation which Eliniel felt. “May I ride up to the front?” she asked the amiable-looking rider on her right.

He nodded once in assent. “You may join Lord Sedryn at the front when the banner bearers go to raise our standard, Lady Eliniel,” he said.

She repeated his words in her head, finding them completely foreign. ‘I doubt I will ever get used to being addressed as such,’ she thought. Eliniel would have dismissed the salutation outright had she not felt uneasy. 

Within a mile, a few elves broke formation and rode to the fore of the company. The marchwarden on Eliniel’s right gave her the cue to move ahead. As hoped, the speed gave her a little relief. 

Once her horse sidled up next to Idhrenol’s, she saw banners of pale blue and gold unfurl to flutter in the frigid wind. Then, as if by some unspoken command, Eliniel felt all the horses begin to pick up speed. She could hear the roar of a mighty river ahead as the company’s pace brought them whizzing past the tree-lined path.

Eliniel gasped when her horse veered sharply onto a trail that ran precariously along the edge of Narog’s western riverbank, its rapids pulsing and ominous. Her awed eyes traced the river’s wide, unyielding path, delighting in the rainbows that vaulted over the cascades. Opposite, Eliniel admired the beauty of the mountain ranges, its face alluring in the monochromatic shades of winter.

They took another turn away from the river onto a short, wide road. Ahead, she could see the majestic Doors of Felagund, the harp and torch gleaming unsullied in the middle of the frame.

“Welcome to Nargothrond, Eliniel Faeveren,” said Idhrenol, his face shining with pride. When the banner bearers in front parted down another path as they passed into the mountain, Eliniel felt her breath taken away.

The inside of the mountain was nearly hollowed out, impossibly held by only a small number of colossal pillars. At the edge of the large courtyard where her horse trotted upon stood a grand citadel.

It was illuminated by lights that seemed to have come from the heart of the mountain, whereas the roof of Nargothrond, by some arcane craft, imitated the sky outside. Archways and complexes of various amplitudes rose from the depths, the heads of some towers extending upwards into the mountain’s height. Details, both functional and ornamental, adorned the structures masterfully.

Eliniel sat mesmerized in her saddle, barely noticing that the others from the company had already halted and dispersed a way behind. “Thandin, with Rovalon,” she vaguely heard Idhrenol command. Only then did she return her attention back to where both of them were going, simultaneously recalling the promise Nargothrond held for her. She looked around. There were groups of people gathered on this massive courtyard but Idhrenol was nudging his stallion towards a quieter section near the city’s entrance. It was then, Eliniel saw him.

His eyes confirmed it first. A mixture of excitement and slight apprehension bubbled in her stomach. Somehow, she sensed that he was feeling the same.

Rovalon and Thandin came to a halt. Idhrenol dismounted and came to help Eliniel. She saw her older brother embrace Amaron. “The Watchers reported a bloody battle at the Crossings of Teiglin. It is good to have you back whole and hale, muindor,” said the latter.

“I as well,” replied Idhrenol. He took Eliniel’s hand and gently pulled her forward. He said, “Eliniel, may I introduce you to-”

“Huindîr…I know your name well,” she completed meekly after realising that she had stared at her twin in open wonder. Their height, lips and light eyes were identical.

Amaron executed a bow of his head which provoked Eliniel to laugh nervously. He looked at her, curious rather than offended.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to seem rude. I am a little bewildered at the moment and quite unused to such formality as our brother here may have told you,” she explained.

“Then you shall fit in just fine with us, Eliniel Faeveren,” replied Amaron with a laugh.

The three of them took one of the intricate paths leading into the grand city. Eliniel still couldn’t take her eyes off the magnificent structures around them, spinning herself around in circles a few times whilst walking on the road. There were certain aspects in this kingdom which she thought she recognised.

“Nargothrond and Doriath share a little history together. Some of the architecture here greatly resembles those in Thingol’s realm, like the mighty pillars,” said Idhrenol with a knowing smile.

Indeed, there were carvings of flora and fauna on some of them. But there were also many others with smooth, geometric boles where lamps of white and gold sat in crevices carved elegantly into the pillars’ crown-like head.

“From the expression on your face, please refrain from telling the Sindar in Doriath that Nargothrond stands ultimately grander,” said Idhrenol quietly. Eliniel could not tell if he was jesting but she knew, from her readings that the Noldor were very skilled masons.

The siblings turned into a busy road, and many greeted the two brothers as they passed. Eliniel could almost feel the people’s reverence for Idhrenol and Amaron like a burning light. ‘Who are these two in Nargothrond?’ she wondered to herself.

They came to a delicate stair that wound around a colossal pillar. Midway up, they exited onto a wide stone bridge that connected them to a long terrace. Windows ran alongside it, set into the eastern face of the mountain ranges and shaded by trees that grew on the outside. Eliniel could hear singing as they walked. After a short distance, Idhrenol halted at a door and eased it open.

Stepping in, Eliniel felt a sudden familiarity. The hallway was a pale blue with lamps above emitting a warm light. Flanking her was a study and another chamber. Ahead, she glimpsed a cosy hall.

“I could not resist rebuilding home when I acquired one,” explained Idhrenol.

Eliniel took her time to soak in the interior, feeling very much like the little girl in her recurring dreams. The large circular window she remembered was absent, replaced by three doors instead. Amaron stood before one of them.

“I hope it is comfortable enough for you,” he said as he turned the door knob.

Inside was a room richer than any Eliniel had ever owned. There was a plush bed in the centre and an ornate mirror in one corner. Blooms have been set on a heavy desk near a bookshelf filled with tomes. She crossed the room to an opened window where sunlight streamed in, illuminating the thick, rich rugs on the floor. 

“Is there anything else you need?” asked Amaron.

Eliniel was about to answer when she heard snatches of conversation from beyond the window. ‘But am I supposed to be able to hear them? We must be at quite a height,’ she wondered. Looking out, there were no balconies or platforms perched anywhere on the mountain’s incline. 

The voices grew louder and the earlier delightful singing she had heard before entering the house chimed in as well. Eliniel felt panic rising in her throat.

“We should let her rest,” answered Idhrenol for her. 

She nodded in agreement. “This is most accommodating, thank you. It is really far above what I require,” said Eliniel quickly, hoping that neither one of the brothers suspected anything beyond her fatigue which she could actually feel deep in her bones.

Idhrenol and Amaron took their leave and gently closed the door behind them. Not a second after, Eliniel shut the opened window, resting her head upon the latch for a few moments as the voices slowly ebbed away. “What is happening to me?” she whispered.

 

 

Eliniel could not recall when she had nodded off. When she woke, the sky outside was dark but the stars were only beginning to reveal themselves.

She smoothed down her hair before opening her chamber’s door. Idhrenol was standing by the hearth reading his missives. He smiled when he saw her. “Are you alright, little one?”

Eliniel nodded, unable to find a better answer. She saw Amaron peek his head out from an alcove to her left. The smell of food was unmistakable. “Good, you are awake!” he said. “I hope you are famished. Rations on the road leave much to be desired so I know that muindor has not fed you well since departing Menegroth.” 

Idhrenol motioned for her to proceed into the alcove where a table was laden with food. After a few banal questions at the beginning of dinner, Eliniel gathered her courage and cleared her throat. 

“If you will have me, I would like to stay in Nargothrond for a while,” she said quietly. Her new-found brothers broke into a wide grin. 

“Of course, little one!” said Idhrenol. “If you wish to explore Nargothrond, I would suggest that you take your time. The kingdom is more vast underground compared to Menegroth. Yet, I would advise against venturing out beyond the Doors on your own until you are more familiar with the kingdom’s customs. Let Amaron accompany you if I am not around. Certainly, he would not mind showing you the city.”

“Would I not be a burden? From what I have seen since arriving, I think your rank requires your attendance at more important tasks,” replied Eliniel.

“That is absurd! You are not burden,” dismissed Amaron. “And do not let those ordinary gestures of people distort your impression of us.”

“I hear you are a marchwarden, too. Would you not have occupation that will take you away from the city occasionally?” asked Eliniel.

“We do leave on patrols and at times, kingdom businesses elsewhere, but seldom are we both away at once,” answered Amaron.

A thought then occurred to Eliniel. “Do I need to conceal who I am?”

Idhrenol looked baffled by her question. “Of course not!” he answered. “If the tongues of others know little boundaries, as I would expect with such tidings, the kingdom will soon know about your relation to us; and we shall proudly acknowledge it! You need only to conceal the same things as you had from your friends, for that truth poses a potential danger to many others as well.”

“I hope you will find Nargothrond quite different. In a good way, of course,” said Amaron with a grin. “Should you find it all too overwhelming, or you believe yourself lost in Nargothrond, ask to be found by Gelmir who is our squire.”

At that exact moment, there was a curt knock on the front door. “I think that might be him,” said Idhrenol.

Eliniel saw a young elf of dark hair and proud bearing entering the hall. “Lord Sedryn, Lord Huindîr,” he greeted with a short bow. “And Lady Eliniel Faeveren.”

“Eliniel, if you please, Gelmir,” she said.

Gelmir grinned affably, shattering her impression that he was someone who abided to the rules of rank. “Very well, Eliniel. You bring a much welcomed effect to this house. Should you require aid, I will be glad to be of service,” he said. “Lord Sedryn, there is a message that requires your attention.”

Idhrenol took his glass and stood. Eliniel watched them as they entered the study, Gelmir already reciting his message in a low voice. She looked down at her plate before stealing a glance at Amaron whose gaze was coincidentally, also on her.

“It is strange to finally be sitting before you,” said Eliniel before she quickly added, “But I do not mean it in an unpleasant way.”

Amaron laughed. “Worry not! The feeling is mutual,” he answered warmly. “Muindor had told me about you when I was younger. He had seemed so sad at the time, and again when he came home months ago announcing that he has finally found you in Doriath. But today, he brims with such hope as I have not seen in him for a long time. Thank you for giving him this joy.”

Eliniel felt her cheeks colour. “Now you have stoked embarrassment in me with a praise I do not deserve,” she said. “I am not sure if it is due to what our brother has told me about you, but I find myself quickly at ease in your presence. And I remember your eyes as if they are from a distant memory.”

“They are uncannily similar.”

“Well, we are related,” both of them said in unison before breaking into laughter.

“I may have expected differently of our meeting, but I must admit that I feel much at ease around you, too. It is quite unfair that muindor should have been a friend to you first before being family,” said Amaron as he raised his glass of wine to her. “Despite this somewhat awkward circumstance that we are both currently in, I genuinely would love to get to know you.”

Eliniel clinked her glass with his and drank. From the corner of her eye, she saw Idhrenol leaning against the doorframe of his study, observing her and Amaron. Gelmir was notably absent. Their eyes met and he winked at her as he made his way back to the dining hall.


	26. Chapter 26

Eliniel stretched to do up the delicate buttons on the side of her dress. Sweeping her hair back, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. It was the third time where she could hardly recognise herself.

The first had been in Doriath after she had fallen into her deepest despair whereas the second was after Idhrenol had revealed the rattling truth to her. At that time, she had wondered if the reflection was a lie. But this third time of bare recognition may perhaps the least severe, for it showed someone with a more serene acceptance of her own identity.

Although her arrival into Nargothrond had only been a month ago, her affection for her new family was growing rapidly. It had terrified Eliniel, even persuading her to withdraw back into her solitude until her elder brother had unwittingly prevented it.

“Eliniel, I feel as if there is something troubling you,” Idhrenol had said. 

Her heart had seized because there were a few unshared matters that did trouble her. “I do not know what it is,” Idhrenol had continued, “yet, allow me to tell you what someone had taught me and Amaron not long after we came to Nargothrond. He had said that all things will eventually come to an end, be they good or bad. Fearing the end may prepare you but it will not help you find peace. I hope those words will give you courage, as it had given me, little one.”

“I doubt he meant finding the courage to accept these sudden luxuries,” she laughed quietly to herself. Her wardrobe was now stocked with items far from the homespun wool she had worn all her life. Even the plainest in her present possession was rich to her. 

“The sister of well-respected lords deserves as much,” the seamstress had said days ago. The words had made Eliniel blush a furious red, in addition to convincing her that she had greatly underestimated her brothers’ rank in the kingdom.

When they were not adding to her meagre belongings, Idhrenol and Amaron had both kept their word of showing Nargothrond to her in their available time. Besides learning about the history and wonders of the city through them, Eliniel had also gotten to know many of its people, the most important being Galadhon, who she came to like immensely. After a few weeks, she had to admit to herself that she has fallen in love with the kingdom’s charm and heart. 

“Eliniel, are you ready?” called Amaron from the hall.

“I will be right out,” she called back. She opened her chamber’s door and found Amaron waiting patiently. 

It was still strange for her to think of Amaron as her twin. In Eliniel’s eyes, he was a confident character who also possessed a kind demeanour. He gave her ample space and seemed to pick up on her inclinations quickly. In another life, Eliniel was certain that Amaron would have been her wonderful accomplice.

“Have you packed their toys?” she asked. Amaron nodded.

“And you the books?” he returned.

“Yes, in a bag underneath the toys.”

“So the bag is heavier, as I had suspected!” he laughed. “Come, let us get going.”

It was by accident that Eliniel first came across the destination which they were heading to now. Amaron had been showing her the southern parts of the city when he had pointed out the healing houses of Nargothrond. He had described the work he did there as his ‘other calling’, one that brought him much joy and distraction, far away from the bloody business of the march. 

But it was the place next to the healing houses that had moved Eliniel’s heart instead. It was a temporary home that housed the children war has discarded across western Beleriand. The elflings’ pull on her was magnetic for she saw a part of her in them.

Eliniel made a quick stop to purchase a basket of treats, giving one of them to Amaron as they continued their journey. She actually found his company very pleasant. Eliniel was assured that she could ask him almost anything although she did not always return the favour. He seemed to understand nonetheless, steering away from further conversation whenever he sensed that she wasn’t ready to speak of a matter yet, such as the death of Tûon. 

“What was it like, growing up with Sedryn?” asked Eliniel this time. She was getting better at using her brothers’ other names.

“Well, when I was up to no good, he was certainly more like a parent than a brother,” said Amaron. “He was strict with me but he does also say that the need for enforcement was only occasional. But how was it like? It was difficult at first, to grow up in muindor’s shadow, for he did become someone significant. I had resented him during my later adolescence because I had cared too much about who the greater one was between us. It had taken me some time to realise that such a competition was folly. Once I had banished that egotism, I saw that muindor was not my enemy. He never was.’  
‘Instead, he had striven really hard to support us both. He had borne the hardship to pave the way for me so you may surmise that I was spoiled…perhaps, I still am. Galadhon, of course, aided muindor very little in preventing it too,” he said with a faint smile. “Today I only hope that I have contributed something to his name. It matters not to me who is the better elf anymore.”

“The people I have met seem to hold you in good regard. And Sedryn does speak highly of you,” said Eliniel.

“And of you, too. He is our brother, so he is obliged to!” answered Amaron with a wink.

They came to a bridge that arched over a bustling promenade. Eliniel saw traders showcasing their wares along the underground river while a quartet of musicians added cheer to the atmosphere. Children were caught up in their play, weaving around the pedestrians and igniting a few grumbles.

“You look as if you wish to join the elflings,” remarked Amaron.

“Maybe on another day,” laughed Eliniel.

The music faded as they turned at a junction. They were nearly at the healing houses. But in the peace, Eliniel suddenly heard loud thumps, followed by voices calling out. There was a roar like a maelstrom in the background. 

She stumbled a step in shock and quickly calmed her pounding heart. She kept her face a mask, hoping that Amaron did not read anything more than her embarrassment for being clumsy in his glance. She wasn’t sure if she could explain this ailment to him when she could not even explain it to herself. ‘Oh, Elbereth, do not look alarmed,’ she repeated internally.

Eliniel pressed on with effort, thankful that she could now see the entrance to their destination. She watched Amaron push the door open and a raucous greeting flooded over her ears, drowning the earlier paralysing cacophony.

“Hurrah, they are here!” cheered the elflings. One of them ran over to Amaron and he readily scooped her up. Her arm was in a splint.

“Lord Huindîr, we need to ask you something,” the little elfling said while smiling cheekily at Eliniel. “Is she the love of your life?”

Amaron laughed. “This is Eliniel, my twin sister. She is not the love of my life although you can say that she is one of the loves in my life,” he replied.

“I knew it!” the elfling cried. “Your eyes are alike. Yet, I think that she is fairer than you.”

“I should hope so!” laughed Eliniel. She was more relieved that her distress has ebbed. “Come, let us head in. We have brought you a few things today.”

The little elfling cheered and hurried Amaron inside. Eliniel took the bag from him as she returned to the entrance. ‘Am I going mad?’ she asked herself as she closed the door.


	27. Chapter 27

Amaron entered the warm foyer of his home. The fingers of winter were long as it grasped tightly onto spring this year. He was stowing away his kit when he noticed his sister’s bag and cloak dropped haphazardly on the floor.

“Eliniel?” he called out. There was no answer.

Her chamber’s door was ajar so Amaron pushed it open tentatively. The room was dark but he could distinguish Eliniel’s outline sitting huddled in a corner, her head in her hands.

“Eliniel, what is wrong?”

She did not move. He wasn’t even sure if she heard him. He could feel fear radiating strongly from her.

Amaron moved towards the window to open it but Eliniel’s voice suddenly emerged from beneath her mass of dark hair. “Do not let them in!” she begged.

Tears. Amaron was certain of them. He crouched down before her and gently held her hands. “Tell me what is wrong.”

Slowly, Eliniel looked up. The pain was clear on her fair face. “The voices,” she said with fatigue. “They sometimes come so close and they grow so loud. What is happening to me? I thought it would go away but it comes back quicker and now they will not leave me alone!”

Understanding dawned on Amaron. It was a long time ago when he had first experienced something similar. He had heard tremors in the ground and felt sensations brushing his feet. But the magnitude at which these effects had grown for him had been gradual. He suspected that Eliniel has only had a few months to deal with it all, compared to his few years.

Amaron brushed away the hair in her eyes. “You need not be afraid of what is happening to you, for they are merely your gifts. I am sorry you have to experience this in such a short time but hearken to me! My poor Eliniel, I promise you that it will get better once you learn how to control them.”

“Tell me how to make it stop,” pleaded Eliniel as she looked at him. Clouds were in her eyes.

Amaron smiled. He found it strange how the three of them had yet to talk about Eliniel’s abilities since her arrival. The elf sat cross legged in front of his twin, never letting go of her hand. “Have you tried listening to them?” he asked.

“They speak of nothing important. It can be sounds of the marching guards outside or the ringing of the hammer and anvil in the forges, depending on where I go.”

“Ignore them all, Eliniel, and listen beyond. What do you hear?” asked Amaron patiently.

She closed her eyes for a long moment and he saw a spectrum of emotions pass her face. “Music!” replied Eliniel at last, completely astonished. “Like the one I had heard at the peaks three moons ago.”

“It is an ancient music of Ennor. Yours might be of the wind, different from mine,” replied Amaron. “Concentrate on it now. Has the chatter diminished?” His sister nodded. 

“Sometimes, you hear certain voices more clearly because I think the wind brings them to you,” he added. “They are not to be feared. If you feel overwhelmed, seek out the melody which you are listening to now. Eventually, it will be your reflex. Now, how about you try to follow just my voice?”

Amaron started to sing softly. After a while, Eliniel touched her fingers to his lips and he ceased his song. “There it is,” she breathed in amazement. “Silence.”

Amaron grinned. “What else do you feel?” he asked as he stood up to open the window a fraction.

Eliniel frowned when a gentle breeze entered the room. “Before the window was opened, it felt like something caresses my skin. But now, it feels like a river current is washing over me,” she answered. Then she shook her head, “Nay, I do not fear this for I have felt more powerful waves when I had stood with adar. I can feel joy, calm, trepidation or whatever emotion that is hanging in the air at that time. I think this was how I knew you were just as nervous as me when we first met.”

“Believe me, it is something immensely useful to have…though I believe your grasp of this element is stronger than mine,” said Amaron. He could see Idhrenol half a mile away from Nargothrond’s hidden doors. “Do you think you can find muindor?”

Eliniel looked puzzled. “How?”

“I am not quite sure how to dictate it to you,” he answered with a slight frown of disappointment. “Try it, nonetheless.” He saw the mask of concentration return to her face. 

“I can pick out his voice among other noises, though I cannot tell where he is. I doubt he is far away, otherwise, how could I have heard him?” asked Eliniel.

Amaron was about to point out Idhrenol to her when she suddenly said, “But I can find you.” He turned his head and saw that Eliniel’s eyes were still closed. “I know you stand before me, yet, I can sense your presence. It looks like a merry flame,” she continued.

Amaron was impressed. “And I can sense yours as a whirling, cool wind,” he said as he extended a hand to help pull her up from the floor. She came to stand next to him and they watched Idhrenol riding towards the Doors of Felagund. “Perhaps, it is only because our connection to each other is stronger. You will eventually learn to find muindor one day. I have no doubt that you will soon master your own gift and I truly hope that you will no longer fear it after today.”

Eliniel exhaled long. “I have been a fool for saying nothing about it. I did not think that it would come to me this way considering how terrifying and desperate the first experience was,” she said quietly. “How did you overcome your beginning?”

“I was a child,” laughed Amaron. “That means having little fear and being absurdly foolhardy with all things, no matter how dull or dangerous. There was a time when I had heard a rumbling in the Narog. It was like a deep, chanting voice and I could sense power skimming the water’s surface. I have never felt anything like it!’  
‘The song was so alluring that I had hung from a tree arching over the riverbank to listen and feel the rush. I had learned later on that the influence of Ulmo was strong in that river. Yet, it really could not rival muindor’s wrath when he had finally found me!” Amaron shook his head at that memory. “But it was our dearest brother who had guided me when everything became too loud.”

A frown etched itself across Eliniel’s brow. “Do you know what his gift is?” she asked. “I mean, I have seen him on a battlefield and he could incite fear in my being with his ferocity. His strength is remarkable! But he has made me wonder if I have assumed wrongly.”

“His gift is his strength,” confirmed Amaron. “Although I do believe that it is also his heart. Do not mind him deflecting your query. Muindor is very careful of his words outside of home, especially when it concerns our family. I think we all learn to do the same in time.’  
‘If he jests, then it is a side of him that even we will rarely get to see. He believes that he must be both naneth and adar to us. But, in some of those extraordinary moments, he will make you wonder if he is, deep down, an excellent trouble maker.”

“How so?” she asked as she waved to Idhrenol below.

Amaron chuckled as he recalled another fond memory. “I was a new member to the hunting party between Doriath and Nargothrond. I was already well aware of the vicious wager between them,” he began. “We were camped in the southeast forests of Doriath, near the river Aros. It was almost dawn and I had felt movements of a great deer near our camp. I had woken muindor and after confirming twice that everyone else was oblivious, he had asked me to raise a small mound of earth behind the Doriath marchwarden on guard, just enough to trip him when he got up. Then I was to carve a shallow trench around each of Beleg’s hunters who were sleeping. By the time I was carrying out the second instruction, I had realised that muindor was stealthily tying one end of a loose string to the sleepers’ finger and the other end to their opposite boot. Once he was done, he had me raise the call and…Beleg was not too happy that we won.”

“I do not believe it!” gasped Eliniel as she began to laugh.

Amaron laughed along with her. “Give it a few months, or years, should fortune disfavour you. Even an eclipse can happen more than once in our lifetime.”

“Was it ever difficult growing up with this gift of yours?”

“I was spoiled, remember? That did make it rather difficult to adhere to the restrictions muindor had set. But one day, he had posed this question to me: If you do not learn to wield it responsibly, can you, little one, protect the others from yourself?” recited Amaron thoughtfully. “There are a few in Nargothrond today who should take that reflection to heart.”

“Who?”

“Best you learn their names on your own…if you do learn it,” he answered with a rueful shake of his head. “Do you feel better now?”

“Much, thank you,” replied Eliniel.

“There is no need to thank me. We were meant to go through it together. Muindor once told me that if I should ever feel lost, remember that the earth will share my tears, the winds will lift my heart and the trees around will protect me. I have always considered you and adar as the winds,” said Amaron. When he glanced at her, he saw Eliniel staring back at him.

“What did you just say?” she asked.

“It was a rhyme that naneth had apparently made up. It sounds a lot like our family. Maybe she had said it before?”

His sister suddenly gave him a long hug. Surprised, he returned the embrace a moment slower. “What is this for?”

“For sharing my tears,” replied Eliniel. Just then, Amaron knew their family was now complete.


	28. The 2nd Interlude

_Year 465 First Age ___

The crowd in the throne room of Nargothrond was nervous. The air was constrictive. Hallind, the chief marchwarden of the kingdom surveyed the people around him. 

__

Orodreth, the steward of Nargothrond stood upon the dais with his hands clasped tightly to conceal his fury as he looked at the two haughty sons of Fëanor before him. Shocked high council members lined one side of the room whereas a group of Celegorm and Curufin’s followers filled the back, their composure shaken.

__

Next to Hallind on the left side of the throne room sat emaciated and wretched-looking elves who have recently returned from the horrific prisons of Morgoth. All of them had been freed by Lúthien Tinuviel, the daughter of Thingol. These kingdom elves have brought distressing news.

__

The Doriath princess had given them proof that these two sons of Fëanor had recently kept her hostage in the kingdom with hopes of forcing a marriage between Celegorm and herself. The brothers had also known that the Nargothrond lord’s quest had gone awry and yet, did nothing. Now, Finrod Felagund was dead.

__

“Orodreth, we could have united Nargothrond and Doriath as one. Your brother would never have agreed, but his vision has always been narrow. Furthermore, he betrays his own kindred to help a Man obtain an elven treasure as a dowry,” argued Curufin. “Finrod, by making that decision has already forfeited his right as a Noldorin, let alone as lord of a kingdom!”

__

“But you knew of his imprisonment and had done nothing!” cried Orodreth. “What does that make you? My brother has been slain when something could have been done.”

__

“Nothing should have been done, as is right!” spat Celegorm. “We are the ones with the right and might to inherit Beleriand. Finrod knew that no one but Fëanor and his blood may take in his hand a Silmaril. He betrayed the oath!”

__

“Your family’s oath! Enough!” roared Orodreth. Silence fell thick among the witnesses in the throne room.

__

Orodreth took the crown upon Finrod’s seat and held it in his hands. Hallind could see grief threatening to bend the steward’s posture. But as he turned around to face the room again, Orodreth said in a hard voice, “Hearken to me, for this shall be my word. This kingdom already bears the stain of retaining you and I shall not prolong the life of your poison in this realm. Henceforth, with all here as my witness, I banish both of you from Nargothrond under pain of swift and unconditional persecution should you and your unremorseful followers ever return.’  
‘I know that slaying you will not bring my brother back, so consider this mercy as my gratitude for saving me from Minas Tirith. Now begone from my sight! I hope that Mandos still keeps you in his.” 

__

Indignation reigned on the brothers’ faces. Yet, they chose not to say a word after a glance around the guarded throne room. Hallind loosened his grip on his sword’s hilt when they stormed out.

__

“Follow them,” commanded Orodreth.

__

Hallind immediately gave the orders to his marchwardens and nodded to one of his captains across the room. Lord Huindîr left to alert his company at the Doors of Felagund. Then Hallind quickened his stride and fell in a fathom behind the two exiles.

__

The air around Celegorm and Curufin was dark. Many who saw their coming knew to keep away. But close to the city’s exit, they passed a fountain square where a group of children were playing with abandon. One of the elflings ran into Celegorm, the former’s blindfold falling loose as he stumbled backwards.

__

The elf looked at the child with scorn. Hallind started forward when he saw Celegorm raise his hand menacingly. Before his second step, someone else moved to the front of the frightened elfling. The dark-haired maiden remained silent as she faced Celegorm but Hallind could see the defiance in her eyes.

__

“Leave it! Not now,” said Curufin to his older brother. Celegorm grudgingly relented. 

They resumed walking out, trailed later on by their most ardent followers, the same people who have been with the two sons of Fëanor since the days of Himlad. Nargothrond citizens continued to watch the disgraced exit in quiet shock, until the Doors of Felagund shut resoundingly behind the exiles.

__

Hallind saw the elfling scurrying over to his friends when passing by the fountain square again. His guardian followed behind and the chief marchwarden heard her saying to another, “Hareth, I think it is best you return to Doriath soon.”

__


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *If you're (re)starting this story after some time, I think it might be a good idea to go back one chapter

Year 470 First Age, Summer

Idhrenol scrutinized the reports of Nargothrond’s marchwardens in the stifling captain’s quarters. They have brought news of only minor skirmishes near Amon Rûdh, in addition to a few close encounters with bands of Wild Men on Talath Dirnen.

The lands were very quiet. Idhrenol was perplexed, for they have spent years in unending battles against the armies of Morgoth and such contrast made him worry if it concealed an augury. 

A knock came at the door. Idhrenol indicated for the young elf to enter. “Lord Sedryn, someone stands at the front gates seeking entrance,” he stated with apprehension.  
The captain frowned at his subordinate. “Surely you are familiar, Lindir, with what needs to be done,” he answered.

“Yes,” fumbled Lindir. “By law, he is not permitted to enter, but he insists that he bears a message from Lord Maedhros. He said that he will not depart until it has been conveyed to the Lord of Nargothrond.”

There were very few people who were barred from entering the kingdom but the eldest son of Fëanor was not one of them. “Did you not press him for the message?”  
“I have. The message will not be yielded to anyone inconsequential, those were his exact words.”

Idhrenol knew it to be futile to ask further questions about this messenger. He shook his head slightly as exited the chamber, Lindir following close behind. They went up the stairs to the breastwork of the fort encapsulating the Doors of Felagund. At a wider crenel, Idhrenol looked down. He now understood why his marchwardens have kept the messenger outside.

The elf wore the crest of the House of Curufin. Idhrenol recognised him, for he used to live in Nargothrond with the two sons of Fëanor. 

“Ah, Lord Sedryn! I doubt you will let me into the kingdom but at least, you are one of those who I can trust to bring Lord Maedhros’ message to Lord Orodreth without tainting it with some prejudice beforehand,” said the messenger.

“That will be for me to decide, Aphadon,” said Idhrenol as he studied the elf before the Doors.

“I do not doubt that you will judge wisely, Lord Sedryn, and I say that with sincerity. Something great will be coming to all in Beleriand- a long awaited victory,” declared Aphadon.

“And you believe that the Lord of Nargothrond will gain from joining the House of Fëanor?” asked Idhrenol as he motioned behind a wall for a marchwarden to hand him a long rope.

“His quarrel is not with Lord Maedhros,” began Aphadon. Idhrenol knotted the rope around an iron peg discreetly as the messenger continued to speak. “I come in the stead of his own messengers because my own lord believes that we should still uphold Nargothrond’s secret, even in exile.”

In a graceful move, Idhrenol stepped onto the parapet and scaled down the fort’s wall in two leaps, landing right before the Doors of Felagund. “You know well that if you betray the kingdom’s secret, you will neither leave nor enter this realm again on your two feet,” said Idhrenol as he took several steps forward. “There is no physical form of Lord Maedhros’ message on you and you have stalled long enough. Approach me, Aphadon, and speak your message to me in confidence, like you were instructed to do.”

Aphadon smirked. Getting down from his steed, he walked towards Idhrenol under the many watchful eyes at the Doors of Felagund.

 

* * * * *

 

Orodreth strode back to his seat in quiet contemplation. Idhrenol could see that the new Lord of Nargothrond was tense. In the room was also Hallind, here upon Idhrenol’s request. The chief marchwarden has recently returned from his long mission at the frontiers of the kingdom. 

“So Maedhros is asking us to unite with his army,” said Orodreth after listening to Aphadon’s message. “Who stands with him besides his kin?”

“The dwarves of Belegost and the Men of Dorlomin are allegedly with this union. If we are to send aid, our army should convene at the feet of Dorthonion three days before Midsummer’s in the year after next.”

“Two years,” said Orodreth slowly. “What does our neighbouring ally decide?”

“Aphadon claims that messengers have been sent there, my lord. Their answer is, as yet, unknown.”

“Or kept to themselves if it was a refusal,” added Hallind. Idhrenol nodded in agreement. There was little doubt what Thingol’s answer would be.

“What makes those arrogant sons think that they can defeat Morgoth now?” asked Orodreth.

“Lord Maedhros had tested Morgoth’s forces last year by driving orcs out of Beleriand, at least from the eastern lands. He believes that the Dark Lord’s grasp is weakening. Furthermore, Lady Lúthien Tinuviel’s victory over Morgoth has fuelled their hope.”

Orodreth scoffed. “But none of them are of Lúthien’s kind, have they forgotten that?”

Idhrenol kept silent, watching the Lord of Nargothrond move to the back wall where a map of Beleriand hung. Orodreth studied it for a long time.

From the corner of his eye, Idhrenol saw Hallind looking at him. He read the question upon the latter’s face. In the slightest nod of his head, Idhrenol confirmed that others have been sent to follow Aphadon.

Both elves knew Orodreth still harboured the notion that followers of Celegorm and Curufin may usurp the peace in the kingdom. This younger brother of the late Finrod Felagund turned out to be a very cautious ruler, to the point of frequently shutting Nargothrond’s doors to the outside world during his reign. But there was still a spark of valour deep within Orodreth, partially fuelled by his desire to avenge his brother. Idhrenol and Hallind were, however, unsure if that spark would ever be fanned into a roaring flame again.

“Lord Hallind,” called Orodreth. “What are your thoughts?”

“It is hard to tell whether victory sits more in our hands or Morgoth’s, my lord,” replied Hallind. “The lands are indeed more peaceful, yet I find it a little too quiet and easy after Lord Maedhros’ attack. The Dark Lord may not be invincible but he is not yet vanquished.’  
‘We have not seen his retribution; and it has not come since Lady Lúthien’s miraculous feat. That is highly unusual and that is what worries me.”

“And you Lord Sedryn?”

“I am of like mind with Lord Hallind,” answered Idhrenol firmly. “I fear that we may be sitting in the eye of the storm at the present, for none of our reports have brought back a good measure of certainty on the actual might of Morgoth. If Lord Maedhros chooses to march, he must be truly confident that his armies are unquestionably strong, or that the enemy has been significantly diminished by the events over the last ten years.”

Orodreth sighed. “Both of your conveyances assure me that I am not still blinded by my rage for those two treacherous Fëanorian sons. Your thoughts are my deductions too,” he said softly. Then in a firmer voice continued, “Fortify our reserves for the days to come. Report to me in three days with your best marchwardens; and send the messenger away. Maedhros will receive no aid from Nargothrond.”


	30. Chapter 30

Year 472 First Age

Spring brought a beautiful day to a group of four elves catching a short reprieve on the eastern bank of Sirion. The fields were a rolling green, dotted generously with blossoms that swayed delicately in the occasional fresh winds. Wrapped by the calming cadence of the adjacent river and their laughter, Amaron could see that Eliniel was more spirited. 

She was reticent earlier that morning when they had visited Tûon’s cairn near the borders of the Region forest. It was Eliniel’s first return since it was erected fourteen years ago but Amaron could still see the grief that shadowed his sister’s heart.

“How does it feel to be in Doriath after all this time, Faeveren?” asked Hareth. 

“A little strange, for this place had once held both my hopes and nightmares. Those days feel like a distant dream to me now,” answered Eliniel. “The one thing that has not faded is Doriath’s beauty, for it is as I remember it to be.”

“Yet not enough to remove you from Nargothrond to come visit us once in a while,” said Belron as he exaggerated a wounded look. “Whatever your excuse, it will be considered poor even though I have seen the kingdom before.”

“Perhaps, I just do not miss you as much,” teased Eliniel back.

Belron laughed. “Well then, I shall make you miss me now, for I need to take my leave to report back in time for the night watch,” he said as he stood up. Then to Amaron, he added, “I look forward to the hunt, Huindîr.”

“We could all head back together," suggested Hareth. "I, too, need to return to the healing houses.”

Eliniel glanced at Amaron. “Actually, I wish to ride to the Falls of Sirion before I return to Menegroth,” she said to her friends, who both looked hesitant for a moment.

“Very well, Faeveren,” replied Belron in the end. “But do not tarry too long. There are reports of orcs still roaming on the other side of the Andram and…it would not hurt to be a little more cautious.” 

“I will be following her,” assured Amaron.

Belron grinned. “With all due respect, king’s guard of Nargothrond, I am expecting you to do so!” he laughed.

The four of them packed their belongings and departed separate ways. Amaron and Eliniel followed the widening river downstream until they came to the marked trail at the feet of the Andram. Close to the peak, the sound of the rapids grew thunderous and glorious. Water mists spiralled around them, bestowing an ethereal aura to the region.

From the pinnacle of the Falls of Sirion, the two of them looked to the south. The stretch of lands were blanketed in a hue of bluish grey.

“The three of us must go to the Bay of Balar one day. Our grandparents will be shocked to see us,” said Eliniel.

“They will, since they may not even know about my existence,” said Amaron.

“They might also believe muindor to be lost, or dead. Who knows what naneth had told them? No doubt, the news of her death has already been conveyed to them. Lord Veryan deserves some good tidings after all that has befallen,” replied Eliniel.

“At last, it will not be just two of them or us three. I shall have grandparents,” said Amaron wistfully.

“I am certain they will love you,” said Eliniel before Amaron caught a twinkle in her eyes. “Although not as much as they love me.”

“Well, they may have already found you tiresome. They just did not have the heart to tell you because they believe you to be their only grandchild left,” replied Amaron.

Eliniel swatted the back of his head before they both broke into laughter. “We should go,” she said. “Being at the borders at nightfall still quails my heart.”

They turned their horses towards the kingdom and descended the trail onto Aelin-Uial. Not far from the base, Amaron felt distant tremors in the ground. Ahead of him, Eliniel suddenly turned to the darkened east.

“Do you feel that?” she asked.

Amaron nodded. The vibrations were unlike those made by any wild animal or Doriath’s patrols. These were heavy, calloused and lumbering. “Eliniel, we should leave,” he said.

But she did not heed him. Instead, she steered Thandin away from the path and towards the source of dissonance.

“Where are you going?” called Amaron after her.

Eliniel continued to ignore him. Amaron was certain that his sister could feel the foreboding that hung in the air, although he couldn’t comprehend why she was hastening straight to it. Groaning inwardly, he nudged his horse to follow her.

Eliniel navigated across the marshlands, heedless to Amaron’s protestations. At some point, he decided to keep silent lest they were marked by peril.

She guided her horse onto the uplands and dismounted. Clusters of trees grew here, their dull green foliages sparse during this dawn of spring. Amaron could faintly hear the growl of wargs in the air. The tremors in the ground told him that many were ahead. 

Quickly, he grabbed Eliniel’s hand. “Do not go any further! I cannot fight their number and ensure your safety. Enough of this folly!” he hissed.

“But I must know,” she whispered back, her voice on edge as she forcibly pulled away from his grasp and moved forward in stealth. Amaron stared momentarily after his sister in confusion before following suite.

It wasn’t far before they both caught a glimpse of the enemy. On a small field, wargs were tearing savagely at a massive boar carcass amongst themselves, unheeded by the orcs who were sharpening their weapons. There looked to be about twenty in their midst, discounting the mounts.

Amaron heard Eliniel gasp. The dread he felt from her earlier dissipated, replaced strangely by untempered wrath. Above, the skies suddenly rumbled. Dark clouds gathered, brought by winds that blew frigid and searching. Its velocity grew fiercer with each passing second.

He felt his skin prickle at the immense gathering of power. “Eliniel,” he called in warning while watching the enemy start to scatter. When he turned to her, he saw that she was ashen, her lip quivering and eyes wide with horror.

With no warning, a storm descended upon the field, lightning rendering the uncanny darkness. The campfire snuffed out as the encampment lifted. Orcs ran to hold on to rocks and trees whereas the wargs dug their heels in, claws raking the ground in desperation.

Then suddenly, two cyclonic arms reached down from the violent skies to carry up the hapless enemies. The orcs’ weapons that billowed in the blustering winds decapitated them limb by limb. The wargs were pounded into the earth.

Amaron watched in horror at the massacre unfolding before his eyes. “Eliniel,” he shouted. He could feel the pulsing, cold fury from his sister’s being. He tried to wrench her away with the hope of distracting her concentration but a powerful gust blew in between them, pushing him back. Amaron hesitated, for if he countered Eliniel, they could attract more attention.

“Eliniel, stop!” he cried again, trying to reach her.

The winds let out a blood-curling howl. The sparse forest behind them shook like a rattle as the whirlwinds upon the field blew away, immediately revealing a clear night with a thin moon crescent. Amaron surveyed the carnage, his heart beating fast. The enemy was strewn across the field, some burning, and some half-buried in the broken land. ‘What have you done, my dear sister?’ he thought.

Amaron turned to where she stood unmoving. Gently, he took her hand. “Eliniel,” he said softly.

She blinked, then exhaled, falling to her knees. She began to weep, holding tightly on to him. “It was them,” she sobbed. “The ones who had taken naneth.”

Amaron held her, feeling her grief and deep regret. The wheels in his mind turned. He knew that a Doriath patrol will eventually chance upon this area tonight and it would doubtlessly conjure up fearful speculations. He dared not contemplate the possibility of Melian witnessing what just occurred.

Making a quick decision, Amaron reached into the earth and sunk every corpse of the enemy. Then over their barren tombs, he grew the young carpet of spring. Pulling Eliniel to her feet, he helped her to their horses and rode back to Menegroth in silence.

 

 

It was a few hours before dawn when they finally arrived back in Menegroth. Amaron brought Eliniel to the healing houses and sat her down before going in search for something to help his sister’s anxiety.

The place was deserted, save for a healer poring over a tall mound of manuscripts near the labyrinthine apothecary. Recognising Amaron, the healer pointed him to the right chamber.

When the elf opened the indicated door, he jumped in surprise from seeing the other person who stood inside. He bowed low. “My lady,” he greeted.

Melian turned around, a glass vial in her hand. She nodded to him in acknowledgement. “Give this to Eliniel, it should help her,” she said.

Amaron felt an invisible vice clamp around his throat. He hesitantly took the vessel from the Queen of Doriath while looking for words to dress his question.

However, Melian spoke first. “Yes, I saw what happened,” she said. When Amaron made no response, she continued, her tone free of judgement. “I cannot applaud Eliniel’s actions but I do not condemn her either. Her reaction is one that I have seen repeated thousands of times during my life, by Men, by the Eldar and even by my own kindred.’  
‘I cannot assure myself that I would not do the same if I were placed in the same circumstances. But Eliniel still has a decent heart in her and your father will want you to ensure that she does not lose it.”

‘My father,’ repeated Amaron in his head. “How long have you known, my lady?” he asked, breaking his silence.

“Long enough,” answered Melian with a faint smile.

The elf found his assurance in the reply. He thanked her and took his leave. When his hand touched the door, Melian called after him. “Amaron.”

He froze despite knowing that it would not be surprising for the Maiar to have knowledge of his true name. “In the coming days when you are supporting the weak in your arms on the plains of Talath Dirnen, help them…regardless of what your king decrees. And tell my lord’s foster son when you see him one day that he should not act in haste,” said Melian.

Amaron deliberated her cryptic words. “Will I know who he is?”

“Yes, for he will be one of the Men.”


	31. Chapter 31

The white light of the lamp shone bright on the pages of a large tome set upon Eliniel’s bent knees. She read the paragraph again, the words uttered clearly in her mind but the interpretation of the text was far from her grasp. ‘It is no use. How long have I been reading this?’ she thought in frustration.

Amaron and her have just returned to Nargothrond the night before and it has been a week since their visit to Tûon’s cairn. Her mind has never stopped wandering back to that horrific day in every opportune moment. In those recollections, she felt an alternation of fury, remorse and self-disgust. 

Eliniel knew that Amaron has been keeping a watchful eye on her although he has yet to press her to explain herself. Hareth and Belron did suspect that something was wrong but whatever consolation her twin brother had offered them, it had seemed sufficient to stem their questions. 

Not wanting to ruin her remaining days in Doriath, she had put on a braver front when amongst others. She was certain that her friends were hardly fooled by that façade but fortunately, they also knew her well enough to not pursue the matter and trust Amaron instead.

Lost in her rumination, Eliniel barely heard someone entering the hall, realising only when she felt a weight settle in next to her on the chaise. She lowered her book and saw Amaron.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

She shook her head. They have hidden little from each other since the day he had helped her cross the barriers to her abilities. She knew what he was about to say. At least now, she felt more ready to face the truth.

“You do seem calmer,” continued Amaron. “Do you want to talk about what happened that day at the Andram?”

Eliniel closed her book and put it down with care on the floor. “That day haunts me,” she answered softly, feeling a cold shiver run down her spine. “It is eroding me from the inside.”

Amaron reached out to touch her cheek. “I would worry more if it did not,” he replied. “For a first blood, that was in truth, terrifying, Eliniel.”

“For you or for me?”

He gave her a rueful smile. “For both of us, for I did feel all that you had felt at the time, my dear sister,” he answered. “You are not the first to have committed so many kills at once and you will not be the only person to drown in remorse. But I want you to talk to me, please.”

Eliniel looked at her hands, realising that she was wringing them. “I doubt I have ever forgotten those who had attacked us in Ramdal,” she began. “When we came down the trail, I had received a hint of them in the winds. I did hear you reprimanding my folly, my dear brother, but something took hold of me. I just had to know for sure if it was them.’  
‘Then, when I saw that orc’s face, a blaze of fury ignited in my soul. The fear in my heart all those years ago, the doom in naneth’s eyes and the last words that wretched creature had uttered to her all clawed at me. I felt a surge ripping through my body, without an ounce of the control I have during our practices. It was so hot that my blood boiled within my veins, almost like the time the warg had Tûon between its jaws. The urge to destroy them was so powerful, I could not deny it. I am afraid to admit that I may not have wanted to stop it, either.” She paused to take a deep breath, feeling the guilt rushing through her in torrents. She then looked straight at Amaron.

“I am sorry for pushing you away when you had pleaded with me to stop,” she continued. “I am even sorrier for putting you in that difficult position although it is futile to regret my lack of wit and consideration now.” 

Eliniel felt the burning sting of tears in her eyes. She blinked them away. “Adar had believed that I could control myself and not forge something terrible with my gift. I have failed him that day at the Andram,” she said. “What am I becoming, Amaron? How am I a lesser monster compared to them? Is it worse that I have thought long about it and yet, my heart whispers that sparing their lives would not have given me peace either?”

Amaron made no immediate reply. “You are still my sister,” he said gently in the end. “Moreover, I cannot be the one to judge you, Eliniel, for I have taken and continue to take their lives at the command of my liege.”

“But the enemy has taken so many of your friends,” she replied after a while.

“Of course, countless of times,” he answered. “But so have I, if they keep any semblance of friendship. Yes, the things I have done at the beginning did haunt me. Then unfortunately or otherwise, I grew to be a harder person in the face of battle as the years went by.’  
‘There is no justification for my actions except that it was to save the people around me. As a rule, I would avoid the orcs beyond the battlefield, so long as they do not threaten my kin’s or my life. Unfortunately, I have yet to meet an orc who shares that thought with me. Those creatures on that field had meant to claim your life years ago…I doubt seeing you that day would have changed their intention.”

“Even though they are the machinations of the Dark One, I should not have dealt them such a death,” said Eliniel.

“Many of us tend to think we could have done better upon hindsight of our wrongdoings. But the past has been written,” replied Amaron. “You do not need me to tell you that what you decide henceforth is just as important as your remorse.” He gave her hands a squeeze. “It is honourable that you are asking yourself such difficult questions, yet, you must be prepared not to find all the right answers. I have often wondered if there were ever right ones.”

Eliniel glanced at Amaron. “Have you ever…?”

His eyes met hers and he knew the remainder of her question. “Not on that scale. But it is because muindor has relentlessly drilled the warnings into me since I took arms,” he answered. Then with a small sigh of pity, Amaron added, “I would rather you not compare yourself to me Eliniel. Make peace with your actions at the Andram, or you will go mad.”

Eliniel gave a moment of thought to his words before lifting herself to kiss Amaron’s forehead in gratitude. Her decision slowly took clearer form in her mind until the front door of their home opened, then closed.

Idhrenol walked in greeting them. Seeing the twins sitting in contemplative silence, he looked at Amaron, who replied with a curt nod. The meaning of that gesture did not escape Eliniel. 

“I had to. I was afraid for you,” said Amaron.

“I am not blaming you,” she replied as she looked nervously at Idhrenol.

But Idhrenol only regarded her with kindness. “Do not look so tense, little one. I will not ask you further of that day now,” he said. “I believe you have spoken of the events aloud?”

Eliniel nodded. “Good, then make your peace. I hope that our sister will return to us, wiser and stronger,” continued Idhrenol as he took a seat. He stretched and let out a long sigh.

She could see the weight of fatigue upon his face and travel-worn garments. “You have been held up for a long time at the council since returning. How was your journey to the east?” asked Eliniel.

“There is much to pick when tidings are not only scarce but perplexing as well,” answered Idhrenol. “My journey was kinder considering where the others had to travel to.”

“What have you found?” asked Amaron.

“Alliances. The Greenelves will join the Union of Maedhros.”

“So war is coming?” asked Eliniel. Belron had made a brief mention of an impending battle in the north.

Idhrenol raised an eyebrow at her, probably surprised that she knew of the matter. “It will be waged but Nargothrond will have no part in it,” he said.

“That is good,” muttered Eliniel in relief.

“It may be so to you and those in the kingdom. But there are still many of our kin marching to war,” said Idhrenol before adding quietly, almost to himself. “It is unfortunate that I have an ill-feeling about this endeavour.”

“I heard that Lord Gwindor wishes to join the Union. He still seeks those in Nargothrond who would go with him,” said Amaron.

Eliniel glanced worriedly at her brothers. Idhrenol, guessing her thoughts, shook his head in reply. “So I have heard, as well. Lord Orodreth is against it but Lord Gwindor is a prince of this kingdom. He may be able to evade our lord’s wrath better than others,” said the eldest of the three. “Regardless, Amaron, either you or I will be sent out to gather more tidings before the grand massing takes place.”

“When? Will you still be here at the end of spring?” asked Eliniel.

Idhrenol nodded. “We have not forgotten our promise, little one. It will be good to stay for Nost-na-Lothion. Who knows how soon we can celebrate something festive in this kingdom again?” he said with a grim smile. “War is coming.”


	32. Chapter 32

A group of enthusiastic elflings hurried down the stairs leading to a sprawling garden. Eliniel, their chaperone, followed behind them, her pale gold raiment fluttering with levity. Like them, her heart was brimming with excitement as she anticipated the festivities of Nost-na-Lothion that evening. 

She found Idhrenol waiting patiently at the gateway of the decorated premise. Inside, tables were straining under a stunning feast; and in the middle of the compound were a myriad of rides that the older elflings made a beeline for. While Eliniel helped some of the younger children with their food, Idhrenol joined another group in a boisterous game of chase across the garden. There was a moment when Eliniel had to find him under a mound of laughing elflings.

The infectious cheer filled the evening until groans replaced them when the time came to dismiss. Many pleaded with the governesses to stay longer, some even concocted imaginative excuses that provided Eliniel and Idhrenol much amusement. 

Persuasions, then reprimands followed for half an hour more before Eliniel could finally bid the group farewell. When the last child grudgingly disappeared round the corner, Idhrenol let out a long sigh. “That was tiring,” he exclaimed.

“It is a good thing that such festivities are not often,” she agreed as they took a moment to sit and catch their breath.

While basking in the calm, Idhrenol gave her a gentle nudge. “Has my sister returned?” he asked.

Two months have passed but she caught his meaning. “Mostly,” she answered. “Hopefully a little wiser, and also a little stronger.” She was certain that her eldest brother knew about her resolution since she had confided it to Amaron a few nights ago. 

In that conversation, Eliniel had admitted to finally understanding Idhrenol’s advice of concealing their gifts unless dire need demanded it. She had told Amaron that she still remembered the night her ability first returned. That exertion, however, was nowhere near as vengeful as that night at the Andram, and it has instilled great fear in her. A long debate had ensued between the twins, because Eliniel wanted to abandon further mastery of her powers, believing that delving deeper will allow her to unleash even more horrific deeds. But Amaron had disagreed and persuaded her to continue learning its control instead. His reasoning had won in the end, when Eliniel conceded that her monstrous action had been due to the lack of restraint. 

“Good,” replied Idhrenol. He dusted himself off before extending his arm out to her. “Shall we?”

Eliniel shook off her reflections and linked arms with him. Together, they made their way into the heart of the city. The enchanted roof of the kingdom reflected unnumbered stars tonight, each of their eyes shining bright although none shone as brilliantly as the constellation of Elbereth. 

In the great hall of Nargothrond, the atmosphere was vibrant and joyous. The lofty ceiling was a dome of bright, yellow lights, and shadows of the hundreds mingling were cast upon the decked walls. Eliniel and Idhrenol weaved through the crowd. Many greeted them, affably to her while a little more reverently to her brother.

“Do you see him?” she asked.

“I thought you can find him.”

“That is how I know he is here,” answered Eliniel with a dismissive wave. “But you are taller.”

Idhrenol laughed. “Huindîr is there with Galadhon.”

“Good! The three of us are at last in the same place, celebrating something this wonderful together after so long,” she answered as they made their way towards them.

As the evening drew on, merriment swept everyone into its embrace. Countless songs praising the gifts of spring were sung and there were dances where Eliniel renewed her acquaintances. Liberty radiated from her brothers as the festivities took the weight off from their shoulders for a while. More than once, the maiden did also wish that Hareth and Belron were there to share the happiness with her.

Once it was a little past midnight, the musicians returned to their stage. *One of them began to play a rhythm of notes, a hint to Eliniel that her beloved song was about to start. Without hesitation, she grabbed Amaron’s wrist and led them to where many other pairs were already gathered to begin this intricate dance.

The song reminded her of a night in Olthasant, a lush, concealed recess by the river Ringil, surrounded by the high cliffs that were also part of Nargothrond’s expansive stronghold. The free winds had carried hopeful whispers to her, along with whimsical dreams from faraway lands, laced with the soothing warmth of summer.

The twins stood face to face, waiting for the cue to begin. The scintillating notes of the playing instrument quietened, lingered…before giving way to a crescendo of strings that melded fluently into the melody.

In a synchronous step, the pairs on the floor began to move. Eliniel was immediately transported back to the night where the sky was clear and the stars shone bright. Fireflies had arisen to join her as she danced across the meadow under the silver moonlight with freedom and pure delight in her soul.

In a lilt of the music, she spun around and took the waiting hands of another elf. When she looked up, she found herself staring into eyes of the deepest grey.

There was a fleeting look of surprise on his face although Eliniel wasn’t sure in the sudden flutter of her heart. He was built tall and strong but there was also a natural grace in his gait as they moved together. The air of mystery about him irreparably drew Eliniel in. She looked for something to say but found only her leaden tongue.

He pulled her closer to him in accordance to the music, cueing her to twirl out from his loose embrace. Then with a last, lingering touch, their hands released and Eliniel fell into step with another elf who whisked her away. She searched for the stranger in the swirl of hems and robes, finding him again when they moved past each other in a moment too short. She felt her heart quickened when she caught his gaze intent upon her, too.

The alluring melody filled the hall, minstrels now breathing life into its depths. Eliniel moved along with the formation on the floor and was soon carried further away from the stranger. When she finally lost sight of him, she diverted her attention back to the dance, noticing that Amaron was returning as her partner.

“What?” he whispered in the calm solo of twinkling notes.

“Nothing.”

“Were you not looking for someone?”

“No,” answered Eliniel as she tried to hide her composure.

“You know I can tell when you are lying right?” returned Amaron with a grin. He lifted her and spun them slowly in a circle.

“Then do not believe me!” she laughed when she was set down. She took half a step back, like the other maidens in her row. Eliniel felt a hand placed lightly on her waist when she began to turn around. Her breath caught when she faced her partner, for right before her was the earlier, mesmerising stranger.

The minstrels broke into a chorus and he steered her along. He gave her an awkward smile and the intense, dark coals of his eyes lit up. Suddenly to Eliniel, his face became much more the fairer.

He led her along the smooth, curving melody. The others around them gradually faded away, for she saw only this elf dancing with her upon Olthasant, serenaded by the light ribbons of a thousand fireflies.

Slowly, the music dwindled. The stranger gently let Eliniel’s hand go, lowering his head in a bow. She responded with a smile before gliding to her right, as the dance dictated. She calmed her heart, knowing that Amaron was about to stand opposite her again as the song came to a close.

An applause of appreciation rose from everyone. Some of the couples on the floor started dispersing. Eliniel looked for the elf in the moving throng, spotting another in a green cloak approaching him. After a quick word between them, his eyes met hers for a moment before he walked away.

Disappointment seeped into the maiden’s heart, tarnishing the enchantment she had just felt. Eliniel allowed Amaron to lead them back to their table where a marchwarden with a king’s guard’s insignia was speaking to Idhrenol.

Amaron acknowledged the marchwarden as the latter departed. “What is it?” he asked.

“The armies are going to take their places in the north. We need to track their movements,” answered Idhrenol in a low voice before he gave Eliniel an apologetic look. “Forgive me, little one. I have to leave in the morning.”

Eliniel felt her heart sink. She pushed away the petulance trying to rear its head. “At least not at this very moment,” she sighed. “Well then, have this last drink with me before you take your leave.” Idhrenol grinned just as the musicians struck another vibrant chord.

 

* * * * *

 

It was only a few hours after they have left the Nost-na-Lothion festival. Beyond the opened Doors of Felagund, Amaron could see that heavy, grey clouds obscured the morning sky. Fine rain was falling and faint sounds of thunder rumbled in the distance. A company of fifty elves were marshalled on the massive courtyard of Nargothrond, running a last inspection before their set-out.

From an alcove in the nearby fortress, Idhrenol emerged bearing his weapons and travelling gear. When he noticed the weather outside, a quiet laugh escaped his lips and he shook his head in rue.

“Is this your doing?” asked Idhrenol to their sister.

“Of course not!” retorted Eliniel. “At least, I do not believe it is,” she added with less indignance.

“Promise me that you will continue learning how to wield it with your brother,” said Idhrenol. “And do not worry overmuch while I am away, for you know that you can always find me. I will be back soon, little one.”

“I shall hold you to that, as I always do,” replied Eliniel as she gave him a tight embrace.

“I pray for favour in your mission, muindor,” said Amaron as he held his brother’s shoulder. “Come back whole and hale.”

With a nod, Idhrenol walked over to his horse, Rovalon, standing at the helm of the company. The marchwardens behind fell into rank, ready to ride out. But a voice suddenly called for a halt and someone approached Idhrenol.

“Who is that?” asked Eliniel.

“My captain, Lord Hallind,” answered Amaron.

“I thought he is a fictional character,” said Eliniel with incredulity.

Amaron laughed. “You have not met him because he spends much of his time running the entire march and patrolling the frontiers of the kingdom since Dagor Bragollach.”  
“Why should he do the latter when he is the chief marchwarden?”

“Lord Hallind has a different approach to his rank,” replied Amaron. “He leads us, yet, he never shies away from the baser duties of a marchwarden when it is required of him. That actually earns him a lot of respect from all of us.’  
‘Of course, he does expect nothing lesser than your best when you step up for Nargothrond. But do not be fooled by his humility! You will not wish to trifle with him on the battlefield…or even beyond it, sometimes.”

“He sounds like an honourable brawler,” commented Eliniel with a slight frown.

Ahead, Amaron saw Idhrenol and Hallind end their conversation and clasped each other’s forearms in a bid of farewell. “You would be wrong to think that Lord Hallind is that, my dear sister,” he said when the signal to depart rang out. “He may be stoic but he does also have a brilliant mind, especially in the lore of the lands. That is probably the reason why he goes to the borders of the kingdom when utmost vigilance is required. His life outside the march is an enigma to many. I would not be surprised if the march is his life.”

The hinges on the Doors of Felagund began to turn. “He must be quite old,” said Eliniel.

“Not significantly older than muindor,” answered Amaron. “They were both Lord Galadhon’s students. Do you not recognise the principles that he also upholds?”

The Doors shut, the dimness swallowing the silhouette of the chief marchwarden who still stood in the middle of the courtyard. Amaron saw Eliniel watching the lone figure. “Why the interest?” he asked.

“Curiosity. I know only his name and both my brothers follow this figure with such willingness. I think my questions are fair,” she returned as she began to walk away.

Amaron smiled in reply. He saw Hallind looking in their direction. After raising his hand in a quick greeting to his captain, he then strode back into the city to catch up with Eliniel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious, I used Cassandra from the Two Steps from Heaven album as the music for the dance beginning from *


	33. Chapter 33

Hallind pushed the sheaf of parchments in front of him to the side and rubbed his tired eyes. Deciding to go no further with his work after an entire night dedicated to it, he extinguished the lamps in the captain’s quarters and made his way out into the fort’s corridors. Fresh winds blew in through the crenels above the Doors of Felagund. All was quiet.

He continued on the path that took him around the mustering ground. With each step away from the fortress, his thoughts graduated slowly from matters of the march to the gratification of homely comforts. Home has become a luxury to him since the fierce onslaught of concerns affecting the kingdom began seventeen years ago. Those matters have been swiftly whittling away at his already limited time in the heart of Nargothrond. 

But not far from the citadel’s main entrance, Hallind’s musing was interrupted when he recognised a maiden. She sat alone, patient and humming to herself. He knew her face for he had last seen it a month ago at this same spot with Huindîr when they were sending his friend and comrade, Sedryn, off.

“Good day, Lady Eliniel.”

She looked up at him with an affable smile. “Lord Hallind,” she greeted in return.

“Are you waiting for someone here?” he asked.

“Muindor and his company will be returning to the kingdom today,” she replied.

Hallind frowned, trying to recall the contents of a message. “I have received word that their return is expected soon, although how could you be certain that he will arrive today?”

Eliniel’s smile widened. “Well, let us find out, shall we? It will not be long now,” she said as she invited him to sit.

Curious, Hallind took a seat next to her on the low wall and looked absently at the small groups of people gathered in front of them. He suddenly felt some apprehension, the same kind he had also felt for a few brief minutes at Nost-na-Lothion.

“You are a wonderful dancer,” he said at last. He did feel disappointed at needing to leave without a proper introduction to her that night. But Orodreth had been the one to send that messenger during the festival.

Eliniel blushed. “So are you.” Silence passed again between them.

“That was also a brave thing you did some time ago when you had stood up for the elfling against Celegorm,” he said.

She looked at Hallind in confusion at first before she gasped. “You were there?” asked Eliniel as he nodded. “I had been a little terrified. Celegorm had that twinge of madness in his eyes. If his brother had not intervened, I believe I will not have regained any semblance of consciousness till now!”

“If he had laid a hand on you, I am certain Sedryn would not have allowed him to leave,” said Hallind. “That was indeed, a trying day for many.”

“Especially for you and your marchwardens,” agreed Eliniel. “I do not know why I have assumed that you were not present at their exile. I must have exaggerated my impression of you after learning from Huindîr that you spend a lot of time at the borders of the kingdom. It must be difficult, being so far away for such long durations.”

Hallind smiled. “My passage is not one of no return,” he replied. “Also, it is not like I have been deprived of my time in the confines of this city. Only after the siege of Angband was broken was I forced to learn very quickly on how to treasure my limited days in Nargothrond.”

“Your loved ones must miss you terribly.”

He looked away towards the Doors, glimpsing the apparition of a buried memory. “I miss them more,” said Hallind. “They have gone before me in the fires of war. My parents had been captured during Dagor Bragollach.”

Eliniel’s expression was one of shock. “Forgive me, I had not meant to pry,” she said softly.

“I am sure you did not,” said Hallind with a kind smile. “I hope they are gone now if fate had brought them to the dungeons of Morgoth. They would not have survived well considering that they were loremasters.” At the back of his mind, he balked at the ease at which he divulged such information to a stranger.

His companion gave him a sympathetic look. “That is a hard thought to bear, yet, I do understand,” she replied. “Do not worry, I will keep the privacy of your tale, my lord, for I believe that you did not mean to share it with me.”

The alarm in his head receded a little. The alarm in his head receded a little. Up until now, he only knew Eliniel’s face, name and relations. His heart was whispering to him that his mind has made a few inaccurate assumptions about this maiden. 

“Thank you,” answered Hallind. “Almost everyone has seen sorrow. Spreading my grief would be an insult to those who have seen more hardship than me, such as your older brother.”

“Sorrow cannot be measured that way, my lord. Yours deserves as much worth as the others’,” said Eliniel as she glanced at him. “Are your parents the reason why you spend such an effort at the frontiers?”

“I go because the northern and eastern lands of Beleriand are familiar to me,” replied Hallind. “Furthermore, I am a marchwarden, my lady. My duty is to Nargothrond and the one who commands me.”

Scepticism passed Eliniel’s eye at those words. “You think that I am simple-minded,” stated Hallind with a laugh. She half-covered her face in mortification at his realisation. Apologies issued from her before she laughed along with him.

“Nargothrond is my home,” he explained. “I have seen it built and flourish over the years. It has my heart for there is no other for me to give it to.’  
‘I cannot not allow myself to be weak when many are trying to be strong for her. Yet, I will also not allow a weak decision that benefits a few to threaten the citizens in this kingdom. Can you understand defending something you love with all that you have so long as you still draw breath?”

Eliniel’s lips curved into a faint smile. She turned to face him fully. Hallind was struck for the second time at her exquisiteness. 

“I have judged you too soon, my lord,” she said. “Though I am at one with you in regards to your sentiment, I did not think that such devotion could be extended to a place.”

“Do you think it impossible?”

“Not yet!” she laughed.

Suddenly, the clear note of a horn echoed into the courtyard. The Doors of Felagund began to open and through it first was a banner bearer flying Sedryn’s standard. “It seems that you are right, my lady,” said Hallind with genuine awe.

Eliniel shielded her eyes against the mid-day sun streaming in. “It was a priviledge,” she said to him as she stood up. “I take your leave now, my lord. You ought to get some rest, too. Good day.” With a slight bow, she then turned away.

But at her third step, Hallind called her back. “Lady Eliniel,” he started, actually unsure why he did so. The following words, however, tumbled past his lips on their own accord. “I hope to see you again soon at the Midsummer’s celebration. With your leave, I would be honoured if you saved a dance for me.”

Eliniel looked away for a moment when Rovalon thundered into the courtyard. Then she gave him a smile that lit up her eyes and warmed his heart. “For you, my lord,” she answered, “you may have every one of them.”


	34. Chapter 34

_Year 473 First Age, Winter_

__There was a ferrous tang in the cold sea breeze that blew past the company standing before the entrance into Eglarest. The once majestic gate was now a scrap of scorched, twisted metal upon the broken ground. Beyond the doorstep to this mariners’ haven was rubble._ _

__Amaron checked his horse across the gateway, steeling himself for another grim sight in another destroyed elven realm. There were still scattered fires upon this razed city, their wisps of black smoke dancing with the falling ashes. Bodies, both elves and orcs were littered everywhere, their lifeless figures depicting the last moments before they fell. Behind Amaron, two of his marchwardens dismounted to survey the ground, hoping to find survivors of their kindred and to scavenge for arrows._ _

__They continued deeper into the city. Buildings here had been smashed mercilessly by the engines of war. The carts that sold wares were either upended or charred; and the beautiful, cobbled streets of Eglarest were now caked with mud and blood. Even the docks in the far distance were empty save for one ship that was missing its mast and had its prow blown to splinters._ _

__‘There is nothing left, just like Brithombar,’ thought Amaron. ‘The Falas has fallen.’_ _

__This recent war has yet to be named, but there were already whispers calling it the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Unnumbered tears were still being shed after the Union of Maedhros had marched across the Angfaulith on Midsummer’s Day with high hopes of vanquishing the Dark Lord. But that day was not to be Morgoth’s end. It had turned out to be a massacre for the elves instead, and this was recounted vividly in a missive sent by Gondolin to Nargothrond._ _

__It reported that the elves initially had the upper hand. Gwindor, the prince of Nargothrond who had brought his own marchwardens to the war against Orodreth’s wishes, had even instilled fear in the hearts of orcs when he was forcing his way past the Gates of Angband._ _

__But after that, Morgoth had defied all their attacks when he unleashed upon the armies a flood of balrogs, wolves, wolf riders and then the dragon, Glaurung. Valorous deeds drowned in the crushing defeat that took many great men and elves, including Fingon, High King of the Noldor._ _

__Turgon now wore that heavy helm. At the end of the missive, he warned Nargothrond against giving their trust to Men after the latter’s duplicity in the war. Also, in his own handwriting, Turgon has advised Orodreth to shut the Doors of Felagund._ _

__Nargothrond received no further tidings from others after that. None of their folk who had joined Gwindor returned. Scouts have been deployed to gather news in Beleriand but the reports were bleak at best. Amaron was among those adding to the list of collapsed kingdoms._ _

__The company came to a junction in the city. “Should we split up?” asked Taraeth, Amaron’s second-in-command._ _

__“No, not yet,” replied Amaron as he strained his ears to find the direction of a thumping pulse. He turned his steed to the right and rode down a deserted street._ _

__“I hear something ahead,” said one of the marchwardens when they have traversed half the distance._ _

__Taraeth gave the orders for two to scout ahead but Amaron countered with a hand signal to halt. The movements on the ground forewarned him that there were others waiting ahead._ _

__“On your guard,” he said. The company, familiar with their captain’s ways became alert. They moved a little further inwards._ _

__Then Amaron turned to Taraeth. “Take half our numbers and clear the air,” he said very quietly, his eyes glancing towards the desolate buildings flanking them on either side, their maws gaping and black._ _

__Taraeth nodded and left to execute the command. Not long after they were gone, Amaron led the remainder of their company forward. He dismounted and asked three marchwardens to follow him. “Arastor, keep your eyes open,” he called back._ _

__The four elves strode towards a lone standing building. Parts of the wall have crumbled and the roof was utterly destroyed. They found a chained trapdoor at the side of the structure. Voices cried out from below, accented by the feeble banging of fists against the stubborn door._ _

__Amaron pried an axe out from the grip of a dead orc. As he prepared to swing it upon the chains, he told his marchwardens, “They are behind this wall.”_ _

__The moment the axe broke the chains, the two elves who flanked their captain drew their swords and quickly parried the strikes from orcs that suddenly issued from the side of the building. Amaron dumped the axe, bounced off the trapdoor and leaped up to reach for the high window ledge above._ _

__He swung himself up, then over, landing in a small hall on the other side. Five orcs stopped short when they saw him and ignored their orders to swell the attack beyond the wall. Three of the creatures charged at Amaron._ _

__The elf rolled forward, unsheathing his twin short swords to stab two standing close together as he came up. With a quick spin of his weapons, he slashed another’s throat with his right blade in a backhand. Turning around, Amaron plunged the left into an orc’s belly while simultaneously twirling the free blade again in his right hand to pierce it through the eye of an oncoming orc. With that last kill, the hall fell quiet, echoing only the dying skirmish outside._ _

__Amaron snatched his swords out and exited the building. His marchwardens were finishing off the remaining enemy numbers whereas a few others were helping the survivors out from the opened trapdoor._ _

__“You have to admit, it was a good diversion coming from them,” muttered Arastor._ _

__Taraeth appeared down the street, giving Amaron the signal that all was clear. They had neutralised the attackers hiding in the earlier row of buildings, ousting some of the orcs onto the street to be intercepted by Arastor._ _

__The survivors looked wretched. Some needed tending to but there were other quarters in the city that the company has yet to scout. ‘And we cannot stay on this mission any longer,’ thought Amaron._ _

__Sheathing his short swords, he mounted his steed and ordered for attention. “Take the survivors out to the gate. Tend to them and wait for daylight. Five of you are to stay with them,” commanded Amaron. “The rest, half with me and the other half will go with Taraeth. Hasten your search of this city. I want everyone to return to Nargothrond after this.”_ _

__

__* * * * *_ _

__

__‘Almost there,’ thought Hallind as he made the turn that would lead him to the Great Hall. Six months of successive covert missions abroad have barely given him a chance to catch his breath. Whatever rest that was permitted to him had been on his feet and now, he was almost desperate for some idleness, even if only for an hour._ _

__Nargothrond has already winded down for the day. There was still a certain tranquillity that lingered in the kingdom, much unlike the lands outside where horror was looming beyond the shade. ‘No, stop,’ Hallind told himself. ‘Not now.’_ _

__“Lord Hallind,” hailed a voice._ _

__The chief marchwarden felt his heart sink. He turned around to find one of his subordinates catching up to him. With a quick salute, the greener marchwarden said, “The council summons you, my lord.”_ _

__“I will be there at the first bell of dawn,” replied Hallind, fully aware of the late hour._ _

__The marchwarden hesitated. “Their council has actually not ended since this morning. Lord Orodreth said that it is imperative they see you the moment you return, my lord.”_ _

__Suppressing a sigh, Hallind changed his course to the throne room. The two guards standing before the door greeted him before announcing his arrival to those inside._ _

__Every councillor’s seat in there was filled. The mood of all those present was grave and there was a palpable tension in the air. Hallind could feel dread rising inside him as he approached Orodreth’s seat. He bowed to the king and then addressed the remaining audience._ _

__“Lord Hallind, your return is timely,” said Orodreth. “What news from Beleriand?”_ _

__“It is bleak out there, my lords. Himlad is overrun. The sons of Fëanor have fled south although their exact whereabouts are unknown at the moment. Some have claimed that Lord Maedhros has settled in Amon Ereb,” began Hallind. “Orcs now have free access into Beleriand but Doriath has secured Nan Dungortheb and Dimbar whereas Tol Sirion remains unoccupied after Lady Lúthien’s last presence there. None of the enemy dares to come within that isle’s ten-league radius.” Some nods were seen amongst the council at that news._ _

__“I have not received reports about the Falas for Lord Huindîr has yet to return,” continued Hallind. “But since Dorlomin and Nevrast have fallen into the hands of Morgoth and the Wild Men, I fear that nothing hinders the enemy from infiltrating the west.”_ _

__“Suffice to say, the kingdoms around us, save Doriath and Gondolin, have collapsed then,” said a high councillor._ _

__“Did your companies encounter any battles?” asked another._ _

__“Only small skirmishes.”_ _

__“Are there any survivors who have returned with your marchwardens to Nargothrond?”_ _

__“A few. Many could not make the entire journey back here since they either succumb to their wounds or grief,” answered Hallind._ _

__“Seekers! Then it is as we fear,” someone in the room whispered sharply while Hallind was still speaking. The elf turned to look at the one who made the curious remark._ _

__Silence filled the throne room. Hallind could see anxiety written on the faces of many lower council members. Orodreth, on the other hand, has his gaze fixed upon the chief marchwarden for a long while before he slowly surveyed the room._ _

__“Lord Hallind,” Orodreth began quietly. “The council would like you to convey a matter to all members of the infantry. Sanctuary seekers will no longer be permitted into Nargothrond.”_ _

__Hallind blinked, wondering and then hoping that his fatigue was the culprit that made him misheard Orodreth. But he was also certain those words were spoken. “With all due respect, my lord, I still have companies out there patrolling Beleriand,” he said when he found his voice._ _

__“Then they shall be the last companies allowed to return with survivors. But that decision is final,” answered Orodreth._ _

__“May I ask how this consensus was reached?”_ _

__Eyes darted to the Lord of Nargothrond, who gave Hallind a most rueful smile. There was little doubt that that question has been anticipated._ _

__“Do you not see it?” asked Orodreth patiently._ _

__Hallind tried considering the matter from other viewpoints but he was either met with more questions or a conclusion that reeked of self-interest. He did not see what the council saw._ _

__“It is not my intention to be challenging but if I am to convey this order to the marchwardens, then I must not assume to know the true reason of those who are currently present,” answered Hallind calmly. “If some members of my infantry were to disagree with this command, what use am I if I do not see the purpose with sufficient clarity or convey it with any breadth of conviction?”_ _

__Orodreth leaned forward in his seat. “The people are afraid, Hallind,” he replied. “Chance you still remember the days after Beren Ercharmion had come to Nargothrond?”_ _

__Hallind nodded. The events that had followed the arrival of that Man have been seared into the heart of every citizen. The day Finrod Felagund had left with Beren was the day Nargothrond saw the last of their founding king._ _

__“Do you remember Curufin’s speech where he had warned us against joining Beren’s quest lest Morgoth eventually destroys Nargothrond?” continued Orodreth._ _

__“Was that not just a veiled threat from a very masterful wordsmith?”_ _

__“But in the people’s eyes, Curufin’s words have become prophetic ones. My brother had given his goodwill and was slain thereafter, whereas Gwindor and his army have been decimated. Had we joined Maedhros’ open war in full force, our kingdom would be in ruins at this very moment. Do you now see how the fear of your countrymen has, and will escalate?” asked Orodreth. Despite the words he was saying, there was no indignance in his voice._ _

__Hallind remained silent, his mind in disbelief and his heart slowly filling with sorrow. “Yet, how does that reason justify denying aid to those who need it?” he asked quietly in return._ _

__A few councillors in the room bristled. Hallind knew that his question was a brazen and likely, imprudent response, but he needed to know if Orodreth, his lord and once captain, has truly changed._ _

__“Hallind, you have been away for some time,” replied Orodreth calmly. “I suggest that you listen to the current chatter in Nargothrond before you decide to deny the citizens their peace and agonise them even more.’  
‘This decision will still take effect. It is only the beginning, for to endure, Nargothrond requires another way of doing things. In the days to come, watches will be set permanently at the borders and we shall turn the course of these sanctuary seekers before they even enter our kingdom. Such measures will continue until the ramifications of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad are over.”_ _

__Hallind was speechless. An acerbic thought then came to his mind but he bit back the urge to say it aloud. He looked to the seat where his father used to sit in the council. In its place was another loremaster who appears to have forgotten that such paralysing fear was poisonous to decisions._ _

__“Are we clear about this, Lord Hallind? Will we have your cooperation?” prompted a high councillor, dashing the elf’s thoughts._ _

__Hallind recomposed himself from the cold piercing his insides. He understood the futility of fighting fear when its victim so willingly allowed its consumption._ _

__Looking up to meet Orodreth’s haunted eyes, the chief marchwarden of Nargothrond answered, “Allow me to listen, as you have suggested. If there is truth, I will see it done.”_ _

__Orodreth acquiesced. With a bow, Hallind exited the throne room, a dark mood upon him like no other since the war began. Rest was no longer an option for him._ _


	35. Chapter 35

Eliniel walked along an empty street in the southern quarters. There were usually few people about at this early hour but Nargothrond on the whole, was quieter these days. The kingdom has lost some of its vibrancy since the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. In its brittle calmness, Eliniel could feel a growing darkness instead, in the hearts of its people.

She stifled a yawn as she continued on her way. She had caught little sleep again last night due to an elfling who needed comforting from night terrors at the home. 

The number of children there was growing, inciting both alarm and pity in Eliniel. In a way, she hoped that no one else will be brought but that also meant that many others could not be saved.

“Lady Eliniel, a good day to you,” greeted a voice.

The maiden emerged from her stupor and recognised a baker with his cart filled to the brim. “Good morning! Forgive me for not seeing you. I hope you are well, Bassanor.”

“Sleepless nights at the elflings’ home again?”

Eliniel nodded. “It is heartbreaking.”

“Another reason why Nargothrond was fortunate to not have joined the fray,” he said. From his goods, he quickly selected a few items and passed a small basket to Eliniel. “For you and your family, my lady. I insist.”

She sighed. “One day, Bassanor, you must permit me to pay you, for it is your livelihood,” she returned. The baker merely laughed and bade her farewell. If he had answered, it would have been a reply that Eliniel has heard countless of times from him- that it was in part due to her brothers’ deeds that he still has a livelihood. As Bassanor walked away, Eliniel glimpsed the brooding figure of Hallind under a pergola of cascading vines. 

He looked different now compared to their previous two encounters. His absence was not surprising to Eliniel considering the darkness that was enveloping Beleriand at the moment.

She walked slowly towards him, the memory of their dance and last conversation shimmering at the edge of her thoughts. He mind briefly wondered if her heart was at risk of foolishness brought on by the resurfaced sentiments. 

Before the maiden could lose her courage, she greeted him, “Lord Hallind.”

He turned, and upon seeing her, his dark expression lifted. A familiar stir of emotions rose within Eliniel. The gladness in her heart was augmented when she sensed that those feelings were shared by Hallind.

Swiftly, the elf stood up. “Lady Eliniel! What brings you this way at such an early hour?” he asked.

“I came from the elflings’ home. It has been a long night, although I believe that yours has not been too different,” she answered. “You seem adrift in your pensiveness.”

Hallind gestured an invitation to the seat beside him. “I do have much on my mind. My countenance must not have been pleasant,” he replied.

Eliniel smiled. “It did look terrifying,” she said as she sat on the stone bench. “When did you return?”

“Yesterday evening.”

“Then ought you to be here now?”

“I do wish not to, yet I doubt that I will find any sort of reprieve in my own home since my mind is demanding that I scour for answers to a pressing question,” he answered.

Eliniel could sense the constrictive chains of conflict around him. “Lord Hallind,” she began.

“I would prefer it if you just call me Hallind,” he suddenly interrupted. “It strikes a chill in my heart these days whenever I hear my name and title strung together. It makes me wonder if something is about to be demanded from me. I know for certain that you are kinder than them in this regard, at least.”

“I take it that the past few months have not been pleasant.”

“That is the simplest way of putting it, although in truth, my foulest hours began a little more recently.”

Eliniel asked no further since she knew the subject of Hallind’s allusion. Kingdom affairs were lately inflicting a deep weariness upon whoever bore their weight. The maiden recognised the signs well, for she has seen Idhrenol bearing them.

“I am sorry I was not at the Midsummer’s festival,” said Hallind unexpectedly.

“I was a little disappointed,” she returned with a laugh. “But it is not your fault.”

Hallind gave her a smile laced with guilt. “How is Nargothrond these days?” he asked.

Eliniel leaned back to gaze at the majestic structures surrounding both of them in this part of the kingdom. She could hear the numerous levels waking up. 

“In truth? Nargothrond is secretly sighing with relief because so few of her children had partaken in the war and yet, she is also shivering with fear. That can hardly be blamed when her eyes have seen only darkness for such a long time. Nargothrond stands and to many, that matters the most,” said Eliniel. In a momentary pause, she dismissed her concern of whether her next words were wise to say in Hallind’s presence.

“I do wonder, however,” she continued, “If valour and honour will still stand steadfastly behind Nargothrond during her phase of self-preservation. Or will she only realise that they have forsaken each other one day when it is too late?”

Hallind laughed a quiet, bitter laugh. “The words of my heart,” he said softly, almost to himself.

“The words that you heart can barely even whisper,” replied Eliniel who did hear him. “And I should not afford them a voice louder than a flimsy breath more than once either, if I wish not to bring any ill to my brothers.” They both exchanged a glance.

“And how are you?” asked Hallind to the maiden.

“Much the same as when we last met, if not more perplexed at what is unfolding outside. I have not seen the world beyond the Doors of Felagund for some time, but the winds carry such horror and grief over the mountains to this kingdom! The children who shelter at the home affirm the terrors that are prowling the lands. Perhaps one day, my heart will no longer be able to shield itself from the fear that has taken a hold of everyone,” answered Eliniel. With a sigh, she added, “At least muindor has safely returned to Nargothrond. Now I only have to wait for Huindîr although I trust that no harm has and will come to him.” 

“You need not worry about them. Their abilities are among the finest of the Eldar.”

She gave Hallind a sidelong glance. “I have little doubt about their strength and skill,” she replied. “Nevertheless, I worry about them when they are away, especially in times of strife because I am certain that calamity cares for neither of those attributes.” 

Her company looked about to say something. But Eliniel added, with a rueful shake of her head, “It is a weakness I cannot shake off, for I actually fear the fragility of life and I remember its persuasion well. Do you find the past an odd thing? It has both the power to give you hope and the capacity to scar you deeply.”

A wrinkle appeared upon Hallind’s brow. “What scars do you bear, my lady?”

‘Recently, many,’ thought Eliniel before she turned to look at him. Hallind appeared genuine, and her apprehension faded when she recalled how he had shared his little known past with her. She thought about her answer to his question.

“I saw my mother moments before she was taken by the orcs. You may say that mercy prevented the horror of death from prevailing over me…but the price I had to pay was never having the chance to bid her farewell,” said Eliniel while she trailed a finger absently along the faint scars on her forearms. “I did see the flagrant parade of death a short time later, when my friends and I were at the borders of Doriath. I had watched the light leave the eyes of someone akin to a father to me.’  
‘Granted, I have seen little compared to many others, but my heart is weak despite what others may think. I send my brothers off because I have no desire to relinquish any opportunity to bid a proper farewell. Of course, later in ironic self-punishment, I also wait for their return,” she said with a wry laugh. “I cherish them with all my heart, Hallind, for they are my only family left in Nargothrond. The news of death saddens me regardless, but if I should receive word of theirs or of my two dear childhood friends, that could be the end of me.”

Hallind was quiet. His eyes met hers and Eliniel saw tenderness in them. “I am sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“That I have to be the one to send them away.”

Eliniel laughed. “How can I grudge you when the war is no fault of yours and the fact that you yourself do not sit idly in your quarters?”

Hallind smiled wanly in reply. Silence fell in between them, punctuated occasionally by the conversations that were coming from the path by the garden.

“How do you know when Sedryn and Huindîr are about to return?” he asked.

“I know not how to explain it, Hallind,” she answered truthfully. “But Huindîr is my twin. Perhaps, that means something.”

The elf took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Eliniel could feel dread gnawing inside Hallind. There was a faraway look in his eyes. She then decided to give him his space after silently admonishing herself for wanting to be selfish and hoping for the contrary. 

“I should take your leave, Hallind. You look like you have much to contemplate,” she said.

An infinitesimal look of hesitation passed Hallind’s face. But he got to his feet when she stood. “A pleasant day to you-”

“Eliniel,” finished the maiden.

“Eliniel,” he echoed with a smile. “I hope we meet again.”

She bade him farewell and left the garden to join the now bustling street. She thought about Hallind for a moment longer before a twinge of mortification washed over her. ‘Oh, Eliniel Faeveren,’ she groaned inwardly. ‘Of all the Eldar in Beleriand, why does it have to be him?’


	36. Chapter 36

_Year 476 First Age, Winter ___

The rain was unrelenting when Amaron and his company entered the encampment. He turned to Taraeth, who acknowledged the command to lead the others to their designated area on the grounds. Amaron then navigated away, towards the main tent where Hallind awaited him.

____

The chief marchwarden had sent out a call for reinforcements a few days ago. Those who could answer were to muster at this location, situated thirty leagues north-west of Nargothrond. Amaron has steered his company here instead of back to the kingdom after an uneventful patrol in the strip of land between the Falas and Nenning River.

____

He surveyed the encampment, hazarding a guess at the gravity of this impending battle. The numbers told him that there were at least three other companies present, and despite the weather, many of the marchwardens were still working in a methodical manner. Beside the provisional smithy, a few elves were fastening some skins over large and oddly-shaped structures in an effort to protect them from the pounding rain.

____

Amaron felt fatigue sink deeper into his bones as he guided Mithgalu, his stallion, to the path that would take them to the main tent. It was not a fatigue brought on by the near unending fortification of Nargothrond’s borders. Instead, it was instigated by an appalling command.

____

Although it was issued three years ago, Amaron’s acceptance of its justification was slowly, but surely slipping out of his grasp. He hated the need to leave civilians of battle behind. Even though he has tended to some of the wounded as best he can without raising suspicion, that act only comforted him for a while before helplessness, frustration and occasionally, anger filled him again. These sentiments burned stronger whenever his company had to turn away the more wretched kin who were just looking for refuge after their home was destroyed by marauding orcs.

____

Amaron had voiced his grievance with Orodreth’s order to Idhrenol. His brother did show empathy, but he was also stern in his advice to follow the command nonetheless. “You are not the only one with such despair,” Idhrenol had said. “Little one, we must believe that one day, valour will return when the people are more willing to welcome it.”

____

“Be wary of your malcontent, my dear brother, lest you become jaded or bitter, even,” Eliniel had said to him. Amaron wondered again, if he was those things already. Little assuaged his growing disappointment in the kingdom’s people.

____

Once he arrived at the main tent, Amaron was greeted by another who took the reins of Mithgalu. “Some grains, if you have them to spare. He has come from a month-long patrol,” said the captain to the groom.

____

Amaron lifted his hood and entered the tent. Hallind was studying an enlarged map rolled out across a table. On it were also miniatures representing sections of Ered Wethrin and the temporary fort that guarded a narrow pass in that mountainous range. During the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, the enemy had used this path to leak orcs into western Beleriand. But after learning that the Falas has fallen, Nargothrond had sent a small force to plug the gap.

____

Thus far, they have managed to ward off attacks that numbered up to five hundred orcs at a time. However, it was common knowledge that a large force would inevitably descend upon this feeble defence post some day. Nargothrond was stretching their resources to hold it.

____

“Lord Hallind,” greeted Amaron with a bow of his head.

____

“Huindîr,” returned Hallind. “What news from your watch?”

____

“It was mostly placid,” answered Amaron. “The enemy numbers in the west have dwindled to the level of mere nuisance, rather than a significant threat.”

____

“That is good,” agreed Hallind before he extended an invitation to the younger elf to join him at the table. “Huindîr, have you received the latest orders from Lord Orodreth?”

____

Amaron has no doubt that Hallind was testing him because the new sanction had been relayed to him a week ago. He had crumpled the missive soon after reading it. The marchwardens were to now ensure that no one but their own citizens could cross into Nargothrond’s borders.

____

“Yes, I have,” replied Amaron before he cast a glance at Hallind and judged it safe to speak. “Are you with this decree?”

____

“It is what our people believe. You know this,” answered Hallind. “Will you still choose to protect them or allow them to be destroyed from both ends?” 

____

“You sound like my brother.”

____

“Were you expecting differently?” returned Hallind with frankness. There was a hint of a sigh in his words as well.

____

Amaron met his gaze and saw the eyes he was familiar with since childhood, harden. “Can’t we do something?”

____

“We can,” answered Hallind. “But the time for that has yet to come. You will be hard-pressed if you wish to change the minds of those who are deliberately choosing ignorance. They will be blind to the struggles of the world in order to remain secure in their comforts. You, of all people I know, surely have this patience or at least, understands the need for it.”

____

Amaron stayed silent. He felt the helplessness and frustration wash over him again.

____

Hallind gave Amaron a long look before he started moving some of the miniatures on the map. Then, as if their earlier conversation had not taken place, he said, “They are coming. Scouts report of a thousand orcs moving across Dor-lómin into Nevrast. Their direction is ever eastward. No doubt the army is heading for the pass, for they bear colossal machines with them on this march. I suspect that they intend to take down our fort and widen the narrow road into west Beleriand.”

____

Amaron shook himself out of his brooding. “What of our strength?”

____

“Seven hundred.”

____

“Do you intend to meet them on the other side of Ered Wethrin?”

____

“No,” replied Hallind. “Our stand will begin in the mountains, along the narrow pass. We will use our fort to draw them to us, hopefully close enough to destroy their machines. Then, we will also cut them down here.” He pointed to a second staging ground on the other side of Ered Wethrin, on the plains of Talath Dirnen.

____

Amaron looked at the plan. He knew that archers would certainly be positioned along the narrow pass and on the northern slope of the mountains. “Are those siege engines I see in the camp?”

____

Hallind nodded. “We will take our place two days before the orcs arrive. Their scouts already ride half a day ahead of the main host.”

____

Amaron replayed the battle plan in his mind, pushing the miniatures representing the two opposing armies on the map. Suddenly, he frowned when he noticed something. “Do you intend to be victorious?”

____

Hallind’s reply was a cold smile.

____


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If you have been following this tale, I have to apologize for two things. First is for the interval in between, because time and words became a luxury. The second is that I have made a tiny amendment to the ending of the last chapter. It's not anything drastic, so you don't have to go back and read it (even more so if you're have not read the chapter before the 9th of Feb 2016) but of course you may! ___

The night was illuminated by a waning moon. Cold winds were blowing from the north east, carrying with it sands from the Angfaulith and the stench of a bloodlust army. Their ominous marching cadence echoed across the barren land, growing louder as time passed.

From his station in the mountain ranges, Amaron felt their coming as much as he heard them. He hoped that the enemy would buy into the elves’ gambit when he saw a line appear in the horizon. It grew thicker, eventually forming one large column. Behind, a smaller second column followed. 

He could see the dark outline of the machines the orcs have brought with them. It was three gargantuan structures, rolling side by side, and guarded by five catapults at the front. With such a host against theirs, Amaron foresaw the work cut out for his side tonight, even with five of their siege engines hidden under camouflage on Ered Wethrin.

The black mass stopped abruptly half a mile from the pass. Two wargs rode onwards to scout the narrow road, hugging the walls in order to get a glimpse of the elven fort where a dim light was kindled. Amaron could vaguely hear the voices of two marchwardens play acting their choices of retreating or standing their ground against the enemy at the doorstep.

The wargs observed for a time, then sniffed around the fort’s perimeter, getting in as close as they dared. Once satisfied, they returned to their waiting army on Nevrast. Tense minutes passed as Amaron watched the scouts relay what was occurring at the elven fort to their leaders. Not for the first time, the elf wished he has some semblance of his sister’s abilities so that the winds could bring him the orcs’ deliberation.

Fortunately, the enemy soon lurched forward and continued moving. The first column took a spearhead formation as they filed into the narrow pass. But from there onwards, they suddenly charged forward, filling the narrow confines with their numbers.

The elves in the fort appeared from behind the walls and took aim with their bows. They took the first five lines easily, but the overwhelming orc numbers allowed the enemy to quickly encroach the small fort. Swords were drawn as the battle broke upon the landing. 

Amaron watched, calculating the moment when those elves must retreat. The mass of the first orc column was three quarters of the way in from Nevrast. The second was close by, and there were movements among the catapults. They were fanning to the side, still facing the mountain, to make way for the machines to rumble forward. 

Back at the fort, the elven marchwardens were fast losing their ground to the orcs. Defeat was imminent enough. Amaron ordered their retreat.

In mere minutes, the marchwardens abandoned the fort, though not without allowing orcs to give them chase. Lights in that structure extinguished as the bulk of the enemy flooded through. Amaron then commanded the archers and lancers to take their place. Within seconds, he received the squadron leaders’ affirmation and standby.

A flurry of activity has seized the second column of orcs. Their machines have been brought to the mouth of the pass and attempts to widen the narrow path were underway.   
Each moved very quickly. Something odd about the scene struck Amaron although he could not immediately put his finger to what it was. But there was little time to deliberate, for the elves needed to strike now. He could tell that the orcs who had earlier given chase to the marchwardens from the fort will soon reach Talath Dirnen, where Hallind was waiting. Just then, a small beacon was lit.

“Raise the signal,” said Amaron to the aide beside him.

Three arrows of gold fletching were fired onto the plains of Nevrast. Almost in perfect unison, the six elvish trebuchets along the mountain’s northern face were revealed and they flung boulders towards the enemy’s siege engines, inducing several gratifying cracks.

A clear, sharp horn note pierced the night sky and bounced off the recesses of Ered Wethrin. In the narrow pass, bow strings sang.

“Set the siege engines on the lower levels to destroy the machines. The others are to take out their catapults,” commanded Amaron. “Lancers, draw your weapons now! Do not let any orcs escape our way.”

From his highpoint, he could see the gleam of elven armour rush in to intercept the orcs that had evaded the archers’ volley. Cries of battle echoed in the cramped battlefield.

Back on the plain, a third of the orcs from the second column had already clambered on to the machines and was returning arrow fire. A portion was working on the remaining three catapults whereas the rest tried to start the machine. One revved to life and its drill head plunged into the mountains, causing a grinding shudder that toppled one of the eastern side trebuchets.

Amaron steadied himself, just in time to see the orange glow of fire from below. “Arrows,” he realised. “Take cover!”

The volley flew indiscriminately toward the mountain side, setting alight patches of forest. “Archers, take out the orcs on the catapults. Get Arastor’s squad to increase fire on the machines, we must not lose our siege engines before those two are destroyed,” shouted Amaron above the din.

All the archers and elves in the trebuchet squadron renewed their fire with vigour. After taking a time too long in Amaron’s eyes, the massive drill head of a machine that was sputtering to start was finally decapitated by their boulders, but a loud crash from the western side told him that another elven trebuchet has been taken down. 

Orcs began approaching the pass again when the attack from the archers dwindled. Small groups of the enemy were trying to clamber up the mountain, possibly with the aim of reaching the elven siege engines. 

Amaron gritted his teeth against the thunderous gnashing sound of metal upon stones. Time was running out for his company to complete their mission. He surveyed his side of the battlefield.

All the orc catapults have been rendered useless and the machine missing its drill has been smashed. But the other was still churning up stone and sand dust despite its crumbling apex.

Amaron suddenly felt another reverberation in the earth deeper than that of the operating colossus. A cloud of fire blazed across the night sky for a few seconds in the southern side of the pass. Many reeled to that direction in surprise. 

“Finish off the last machine,” commanded Amaron, calling back his company’s attention. They were no use to Hallind and their fellow marchwardens on Talath Dirnen if they did not complete this.

The last three trebuchets continued pelting until the remaining structure of the last machine began collapsing inwards. The spinning drill head began to slow, the grinding sound of stones dying off into the night. 

It was then Amaron heard the sound of a galloping horse approaching from behind. “Lord Huindîr!” hailed the rider. “Lord Huindîr, you are to take command. Lord Hallind has been wounded.”

“Is it grave?” 

“I know not for sure. He has been moved to safety. The command on Talath Dirnen has fallen to his second. But Lord Hallind says that you are the overseer now,” answered the rider.

Amaron knew he needed to think fast. “Report,” he ordered.

“The southern archers are spent and have joined the lancers. Their numbers are flagging. The flanks on the staging ground are still trying to stem the flow of orcs after the explosion. Our third host has been moved up to fortify them.”

“How bad was the blast?”

“Thirty six dead thus far.”

“Reserves?”

“Replacing only those we lost at the gap. The rest awaits your orders, my lord.”

Their resources were thinning now. Amaron cast a quick look back to the plains of Nevrast. Two of their trebuchets remained. The last machine was not entirely destroyed but it was no longer functional. Likely sensing their impending defeat, many of the orcs have begun retreating.

“Mithgalu, to me!” called Amaron. Within moments, the stallion cantered to the elf’s side. “Taraeth, take over!” he continued to his second-in-command. “Ensure the destruction of the every enemy equipment. Collapse the entrance to the pass, then destroy our own engines. After that, fortify the lancers and make your way towards Talath Dirnen.”

Amaron spurred his stallion and rode the forest path towards the south, the earlier messenger trailing him. Nargothrond’s fort in Ered Wethrin was lost and some of the orc host stood their ground there. Throughout the leagues, the captain glimpsed the hope of a modest victory. It was far from a glorious conquest but the elves only intended to win a little time for themselves.

He bypassed the lancers, swiping a few straggler orcs from his seat on Mithgalu before bursting onto Talath Dirnen. The ground here looked like it had been thrown up from below, a black halo marking the boundary.

Amaron searched for Rivornon, Hallind’s lieutenant, and rode up to him. “How goes it here?” he asked as he dismounted.

Rivornon retreated from the battle line, whipping the orc blood away from his broadsword. “A little slow, my lord.”

“The northern entrance of the pass is closing as we speak. Taraeth and the lancers will tighten the net. Move our reserves now and lead half of them to the left flank. I will take the right. Let us end this now.”

Rivornon nodded and went to rally the marchwardens. Soon, the reserves came up behind Amaron, weapons at the ready.

Amaron drew both of his twin swords, a sudden pensiveness passing his thoughts as he observed the carnage before him. “For Nargothrond,” he whispered. Then the elf charged into the fray.


	38. Chapter 38

A messenger stood before two elves, the battle’s aftermath still smoking around them. “The wounded tallies at a hundred, my lords.”

“Our dead?” asked Rivornon.

“A hundred and seventy-nine.”

“Are there prisoners?” asked Amaron.

“None.”

Amaron dismissed the messenger and surveyed the plain he stood upon. A pyre was being built in the western corner for people they lost.

“Orders for me, Lord Huindîr?” asked Rivornon. His face, now illuminated by the sun, was streaked with blood and dirt.

Amaron turned his eyes toward the north. The narrow pass was clogged with activity. “Find out what is taking place on the other side of Ered Wethrin,” he answered. “Take no prisoners, but do not descend into Nevrast.”

Rivornon nodded and called for his horse. Amaron stood where he was for a few moments longer. He collected his thoughts while absently watching groups of marchwardens succour the battlefield until a noise suddenly caught his attention.

A few elves from his company were gathered just at the forest boundary, their backs to him. There were strains of pleas and wretched cries coming from their direction.

“What is the matter here?” asked Amaron when he walked up to the circle.

The marchwardens parted, revealing a party of two elf-women and four elflings. Amaron felt his heart sink to his feet.

“Can you help them?” pleaded the elf-woman who embraced a boy in her arms. His foot dangled unnaturally and the strips that bound it were a brownish red. 

“You do not have to take us. Just them, please! Just take the elflings with you,” begged the other.

“We found them not far from the eastern side of the pass. They saw our scouts, claiming to have trekked from a village near Ivrin after a band of orcs destroyed their home,” said one of the marchwardens to Amaron.

“They have been raiding villages in the mountains since that last war. Most of our people have fled, though tidings do come back to us saying that there is little hope even in southern Beleriand,” said one woman. “Please, my lord. You may turn us two away, but save the children.” Tears streamed down her face.

Amaron remained silent as he moved to take the elfling in her arms. He gently unbound the cloth around the foot to reveal a deep laceration on the side. The little boy whimpered, then began sobbing when Amaron decanted water from a skin to wash away the mud and blood.

Taking a bandage from his belt, Amaron wrapped it snugly around the elfling’s foot, simultaneously ignoring the despair attempting to crush his heart. “Take a deep breath,” he told the boy. With a very quick motion, he reset the dislocated foot.

The elfling gave a sharp gasp but he did not continue crying. Instead, he looked at his healer, wide-eyed and the last of his tears sliding down his sooty cheeks. Amaron gave him a wink and touched a finger to his lips in a gesture of silence.

“Have you kin elsewhere, or have you travelled across Beleriand?” asked Amaron as he returned the elfling. Both women shook their heads.

“Are there horses to spare?” he continued asking his marchwardens.

“Yes, my lord,” answered one.

“I need you to report to the Andram fort. You must return to the kingdom by the next moon. Take a few others with you and go no further than expected,” said Amaron with a sidelong glance at the wretched-looking family. His marchwardens nodded in understanding. 

“Forgive me, for that is the best I can do,” he said to the two elf-women. Then he left immediately, detouring to the infirmary tent. Inside, he made a quick count of who was grievously wounded and started tending to them. Two hours passed quickly, interrupted only by further reports about the earlier battle.

Finally, Amaron made his way to Hallind’s command tent. A healer in the campsite had relayed to him that the chief marchwarden has been tended to. Also, Amaron received his instruction to ensure that all was in order before he visited his captain.

“Lord Hallind?” he called inside the tent. He walked in to find the elf propped up on the same table that had held the map of Beleriand only hours ago.

Hallind’s ashen skin was marked with fresh stab wounds to his ribs and shoulder. Some of them were hidden below vicious-looking burns.

Amaron was told that Hallind had been leading his company at the narrow outlet when the trapped orcs made a desperate charge. Two in the enemy’s number had kindled firestones, detonating a blast where its fringes had scorched Hallind before hurling him against the mountain walls. The chief marchwarden was fortunate that his company got to him in time, for the orcs had already brought Hallind to his knees.

The battered elf opened his eyes the moment Amaron approached him. “How are you holding?” asked the younger elf.

“Inconvenienced,” answered Hallind, the reply provoking a smile between them.

“Let me see the burn,” said Amaron as he began rummaging a kit left by a healer.

“What tidings from out there?”

“The pass is now closed and the enemy’s machines have been rendered useless. Rivornon is there gathering news in case the orcs decide to reassemble,” said Amaron. He continued detailing the battle from the moment it began until it ended. Hallind listened intently, interrupting only to clarify how the orcs had played their hand.

“What are your thoughts of the battle?” asked Hallind, accepting the help to make him sit up.

“They will be back,” replied Amaron as he applied grey pulp to a wide roll of linen. He has finally deciphered the orcs’ frantic urgency during the battle. 

“I believe that Angband still stores many more of those massive machines. This was a gamble for them to test the feasibility of their plan,” he continued. “You were right to think that our retaliation this time would be beyond their expectations. With this pass closed, they will have to sail by the coast to enter West Beleriand, which is an unlikely thing for them to do since they fear and hate the sea. However, they may still try to enter from Dor-lómin, before the source of Teiglin.”

“If that is the route they do choose, then dark days are upon us, for it means that the enemy is willing to face Doriath, the men of Brethil and us…perhaps even Gondolin,” answered Hallind as he shifted slightly for Amaron to wrap his burns.

Amaron moved carefully, pulling ever so subtly at the powers of the earth because he dared not risk intriguing his captain who was acute to many things.

“Huindîr, you have done well,” continued Hallind, who was watching Amaron bring the two ends of linen together. “I must say, however, that I cannot ignore your defiance of Lord Orodreth’s order shortly before you came to see me.”

The younger elf felt a twinge of shame from being caught by his mentor. But the anger and bitterness bubbled above it, causing him to exert a little too much force when he knotted the bandage. Hallind grunted to the pain.

“What would you have me do, then?” returned Amaron, his tone hard even to his own ears.

Hallind’s expression was indecipherable. There was certainly no anger written upon it. “Better,” he replied after a pause. “You could do better.”

For a moment, Amaron thought he saw a fire ignite in Hallind’s grey eyes. But it disappeared quickly. It was also hard to accurately tell when his heart was trying to quell the beast of frustration at the same time.

“Lead the host home, Huindîr,” commanded Hallind, who was slowly leaning back. He exhaled and closed his eyes.

Amaron walked to the mouth of the tent, attempting to steady his nerve. Not a distance away, he saw the marchwardens who had brought the elf-women and children. He approached them while he mustered up his determination.

“Leave now,” he said to the marchwardens. Then he signalled messengers to him, giving orders to prepare for the journey back to Nargothrond.

 

\----------

 

It was the sound of the Narog that roused Hallind. He opened his eyes, hoping to see the white mountains of Nargothrond, momentarily forgetting that he was travelling in a covered wagon. He winced as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. The pain clawed at him, making him wonder how much more merciless it would be had he not agreed to the medicine earlier. 

Hallind diverted his mind towards the question of Nargothrond’s move in the coming days. In his meditation, he considered the options left for the kingdom’s host, basing it on previous battles, those fought with weapons on the field and those fought with cunning words in council chambers. Before long, it drifted back to Huindîr and his decision to defy Orodreth’s latest decree. Hallind knew his captain followed through with his action, but the chief marchwarden personally could not find a worthy reason to begrudge Huindîr.

‘Yet, you must not give the council another reason to gain crippling control of the marchwardens,’ thought Hallind. He knew that there were many other good people in the infantry, struggling to uphold their oaths of protecting the kingdom and also their oaths to themselves.

Hallind glimpsed the Doors of Felagund as the wagon passed into the cavernous stronghold. He called out to the elf driving the wagon, instructing for the vehicle to be directed to the archway leading to the captain’s quarters.

At the stop, he gingerly made his way down the wagon steps and onto the courtyard, waving away the people coming to proffer help. Slowly, he walked towards the stairs to his destination, knowing that he would find his acting chief marchwarden already waiting for full tidings, though not necessarily from him. 

‘Of course, I could also summon Sedryn to me,’ thought Hallind with slight amusement. Such hindsight reminded him that it would not be long before his mind and body succumb to stupefaction. But then, he also remembered his other intention for coming this way.

Not far away from him, he saw someone dismount from a grey steed. “Huindîr,” he called. The young captain turned to look at him with surprise, obviously believing that Hallind was on his way to the healing houses. 

Huindîr approached Hallind, an air of wariness about him. “My lord?”

“Are we clear about the final matter in our last conversation?”

Huindîr showed a moment of hesitation. But there was no doubt of that little spark of anger in his eyes. “Surely, Nargothrond can do better,” he answered, his voice low.

“Yes, she can,” answered Hallind patiently. He needed, more than ever, for Huindîr to find a way without him considering how his hands were tied. “Until she does, you must seek a better solution that does not defy your countrymen with such blatancy.”

Confusion, then a coldness passed Huindîr’s face before he bowed to Hallind and departed. The younger elf walked up to someone at the rim of the courtyard to exchange a quick word before storming off. 

Hallind truly hoped that he hasn’t miscalculated, and that his bright but naïve captain would return after some wallowing in despair. While he pondered, he felt eyes upon him. He turned to meet Eliniel’s gaze, remembering with sudden clarity that she always welcomed her brothers home.

The warmth he has always received from her in their occasional encounters, though they were brief and coincidental, rapidly receded. Now Hallind saw horror upon her fair face, gradually replaced by sorrow, before her bright eyes suddenly grew distant. Resolution seemed to frame her posture as she walked up to him.

“Do not delay your intention to the healing houses, Hallind. Let me speak to Huindîr,” she said quietly to him. Without waiting for his reply, she bowed curtly and left.

A weight settled in him at her departure. Hallind did not know why, but in that moment, he felt a true stab of loss.


	39. Chapter 39

The cobbled path disappeared under a green, lush carpet. The artificial brightness of Nargothrond gradated to the bright, afternoon sky outside. A gentle breeze swayed the tree branches of Olthasant. Despite the sun’s presence, the air was crisp, brittle with a promise of snow.

Eliniel allowed her instinct to guide her, confident that it would lead her to Amaron after his distancing from everyone else three days ago. Such peculiar behaviour sparked concern in her. 

She walked towards the river bank and saw her twin watching the ripples sweep across the silvery surface. She paused next to him and waited for a protest that did not come. Then she sat down, pulling her woollen cloak closer around her.

Eliniel said nothing at first, gauging his mood. He was more placid than the day he returned home. “Talk to me?” she asked in the end.

Amaron looked away from the calming cadence of the river. “I cannot seem to control the hotness in my heart,” he said at last. “Nor can I control the helplessness that is threatening to drown my spirit. I am afraid I have become the bitter creature that you have warned me of.”

She reached over and gently loosened his clenched fist. “What was the last straw?”

“The most recent order from the council. No one save for those from our kingdom may enter. Everyone else is to be turned away before they can even encounter our borders and we are to do this discreetly, using any means save slaying them.” Amaron sighed, “What valour is left in this kingdom when we not only deny, but also chase the desperate away with arrows in the dark? We have fallen quite far, Eliniel. Do you still think that I am too idealistic?”

“You would be a lesser brother if you are not,” she replied. Eliniel allowed the conversation to lapse, letting Amaron work out his thoughts.

“I never told you what had happened in Menegroth after we returned from the Andram,” said Amaron out of the blue.

Eliniel still shuddered whenever she recalled that dark incident at Doriath’s borders. She inclined her head in question.

“Lady Melian was in the healing houses, as if she was somehow, waiting for me there. She had forewarned me about such a day. I just did not expect to have given up this much,” he answered.

“What did she say to you?” asked Eliniel, thoroughly familiar with wisdom of the Queen of Doriath.

“In the coming days when you are supporting the weak in your arms on the plains of Talath Dirnen, help them, regardless of what your king decrees,” recited Amaron.

“So you have heeded Lady Melian’s advice.”

“And I have also defied my sovereign. I actually feel little guilt for doing so. What does that say about me?” he asked unhappily. “I hardly believe in the people I swore to defend anymore, for these recent parsimonious decrees are indeed based on the truth! How did we come to this?’  
‘The people I have expected to fight alongside me are also silent. My loyalty is eroding and that strikes fear in my heart, for I now realise that my allegiance has even begun to waver in someone like Lord Hallind.”

At the mention of Hallind’s name, Eliniel inadvertently harked back to the image of his battered figure standing upon the courtyard, defiant, but still ultimately fragile. She felt a bitter sorrow rise at the back of her throat. ‘But there is no need to regard him beyond his rank in Nargothrond now,’ she chided herself. Her decision about Hallind has been made after she had left him that day. “What has he done?” she asked.

Amaron ran his thumb absently on the bandage that concealed a long cut on his forearm. Despite his ability to heal various nonfatal injuries, he hardly used it upon himself when he did sustain wounds. He had once explained to Eliniel that it would raise too much suspicion and that such gifts were not meant to be self-serving. They were reasons that she has learnt to accept although she occasionally found them maddening as well.

“After the battle, I had stowed away a group of elf-women and children. I had sent them southwards, hoping that they will encounter folk from Doriath, or if fortune frowns upon them, eventually find their own way to the Bay of Balar. Lord Hallind found out about my plans, even as he was cooped up in his tent, nursing his wounds,” explained Amaron with a sniff and a tone that was laced with grudging admiration.

“He gave me neither admonition nor consolation. Instead, he said that I could do better and to not defy my countrymen. Does he mean to say that I should not have done what I did? I have followed him for so long, and though he can be brutal in his objectiveness, he has never been apathetic. Muindor is also gradually becoming like Hallind. Am I missing something, Eliniel? Whose side are they on? I can tell they are perturbed by these council decisions as well, and I have been patient, but why does it feel like I am fighting alone?”

It was perplexing for Eliniel to see such frustration in her even-tempered sibling. He was always the calmer one and the optimist. Now, he was losing hope in his beliefs and those he revered.

She recollected her meetings with Hallind, especially the one that had taken place on an early morning in the gardens when she was returning from the children’s home. The person she had spoken to was far from the one Amaron has described. Eliniel did not doubt the sincerity in Hallind when his stoic façade had faded in a weak moment. Although she believed that her brother’s captain always spoke with care, the manner and words he chose were free from malevolence. 

‘Am I being partial?’ she thought to herself for a moment. ‘No…I have seen the weight he bears in muindor, too, and it is heavier. Amaron has yet to see the masked truth.’

“Perhaps they cannot fight with you in your way,” offered Eliniel. “I believe Hallind gives you more credit than you are giving him. His reprimand, telling you that you can do better, may in fact, be an undisguised, well-meaning advice. After all, he has managed to apprehend your deed in his feeble condition. What would Orodreth’s council do to you had they caught you instead?”

“But what you are saying is simply an assumption.”

“You thought that Hallind was going to discharge you when your deed was revealed and you have assumed wrongly.”

“It does not make my next assumption any more correct, or forgivable, Eliniel.”

The dejection she saw in him broke her heart. “My dear brother, have you allowed anger to lead you so astray? There is a weight that muindor and Hallind have been carrying since the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, and that is to be a bridge between the valorous and the fearful. If they collapse under this burden, those two sides may shred the kingdom before they compromise. Can you not see this? If you do, then forgive Hallind if you can forgive muindor, for they are merely trying to hold the seams of Nargothrond together. And I truly feel that if you wish to aid them, then do what must be done, for them. The order has been given.”

Amaron stayed silent, staring wistfully at the sheer sides of the mountain before leaning back against the tree with closed eyes. They said nothing further for a long time. Eliniel allowed him to brood, basking in the sweeping landscape instead, before she produced letters to read from Hareth in Doriath.

The sun was dipping behind the mountain peaks, casting a golden hue upon the glade by the time Amaron stirred. Their eyes met and a wan smile slowly spread upon his lips. “I am a fool when steeped in bitterness,” he said as he shook his head in rue.

“And blind?”

Amaron softly laughed and Eliniel was glad to see the dark mood dissipating a fraction from her twin’s brow. “I have judged Hallind unfairly, so I am blind,” he agreed. “But hopefully, only this time.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer. Even though she was certain her expression betrayed nothing, Eliniel feared that Amaron could read her inner thoughts when Hallind’s name was mentioned. She has not confided anyone about the latter elf.

“I cannot expect my captain to declare an open stand against the kingdom and I should not undo all of his and muindor’s efforts. I must then do what is better, for the situation at hand is indeed bigger. You are right about that,” he said instead.

“Of course I am,” answered Eliniel.

“Being born first does not make that a perpetual fact,” countered Amaron.

She laughed, hoping that it would chase away her thoughts about Hallind. Her twin gave her knee a squeeze. “The winds have lifted my heart. Thank you, my dear sister,” he said.  


Eliniel held his cheek in reply. “Only befitting, for the earth has shared much of my tears,” she replied as they both sat in the calm that enveloped Olthasant.


	40. Chapter 40

Hallind stared absently at the wall of a room he has spent many months in. Half of that time had been in senseless pain while the other half had mercifully proffered peaceful recuperation. A healer was setting up a small tray with items that would be used to inspect, and perhaps treat, Hallind’s burn wounds. The other injuries have already healed, leaving only puckered scars and a littering of scabs. 

The last ten months have been very quiet for him. He vaguely knew of a rumble that had erupted in the kingdom’s high council soon after the company had returned to Ered Wethrin. But Sedryn had assumed Hallind’s role well, ensuring that no one intruded upon his convalescence. 

Orodreth had visited Hallind once in the healing houses, assuring the chief marchwarden that there was little else that Nargothrond could have done to defend the narrow pass.

“You have done the best you could in a hopeless situation, Hallind. Thank you and I hope you will return to the kingdom’s service soon,” Orodreth had said. The Lord of Nargothrond’s visit has given Hallind a sense of relief for it meant that the sovereign still trusted him despite the whispers from some councillors.

Hallind unrolled a small piece of parchment in his hand, regarding the message within again. Mablung, the huntsman of Doriath, had been the one to send it, informing him of rumours that Morgoth was installing a garrison in the northern mountains. Hordes of orcs have been seen periodically moving in and out of the ranges, usually originating from the direction of Angband, although no scouts have been able to pin down an exact location of this purported stronghold. Hallind suspected a tunnel network under the mountains after recalling how elven villages across Ered Wethrin had been terrorised prior to the battle at the narrow pass.

The elf was certain that Mablung was thinking the same, because the latter has proposed for the stoutest of hearts from both kingdoms to meet and combine efforts in the search. They both knew that should they even locate the entrance to these secret tunnels, exploring them would be another matter altogether. Descending into caverns leagues deeper than those of Nargothrond and Doriath could induce fear in even the most seasoned marchwarden.

It was doubtless that Hallind would join the expedition if he was declared hale after today. In fact, he has to leave within the next two days if he was to arrive in time for the meet. A part of him was admittedly raring to go after such a long confinement with innumerable restrictions.

The healer began unwrapping the bandages that wound across his shoulder and back. Hallind found them unnecessary considering the pain had stopped troubling him a month ago. He has also begun retraining his strength ever since.

“All is well, Lord Hallind. The skin has knitted itself wonderfully,” commented the healer. “Whatever care Lord Huindîr has rendered is remarkable. Either that, or you heal very well.”

Hallind was surprised when Huindîr had appeared by his bedside a week after they have returned from battle. The young captain had stridden forward, saying that he was going to see to Hallind’s wound. Hallind was glad that his gamble was not miscalculated although he had not expected Huindîr to turn up so soon. There was a measured control in the younger elf’s demeanour at the beginning, but that fortunately improved over the weeks.

Hallind turned his shoulder to look at the skin, which was now a large patch of pink, and for the most part, smooth. “Indeed,” he agreed, wondering not for the first time, at Huindîr’s skill in medicine. “I plan to depart abroad very soon and this journey may take a year or two. Do you foresee any problems?”

“If you are not undertaking this mission alone, it is unlikely that you will encounter any difficulty beyond that of lost strength. Your healing is above my expectations and I am aware that you have already returned to training,” answered the healer with a slight frown of disapproval. 

Hallind could not help smiling in reply. He thanked the elf and donned his tunic. Tucking away the small roll of parchment, he began mentally listing his tasks as he headed for the exit.

When he was at the main entrance, he glimpsed Eliniel leaving the children’s home next to the healing houses. He felt a strum in his heart, first from gladness, then from hesitation when he remembered the cool demeanour she had last adorned. Regardless, she did help him steer Huindîr around. 

“Eliniel,” he called.

She started when she saw him. “Hallind,” she greeted back.

“Are you well?” he asked as he descended the stairs.

She nodded in reply. “How about you?”

“Much better than when we last met.”

“I am glad, truly,” she said. Her words were genuine, although the formality in her posture was still present. An awkward silence fell between them. Eliniel looked as if she clearly remembered their last encounter on the mustering courtyard.

“I hope Huindîr has found his sense,” she said.

“He has,” replied Hallind. “I meant to thank you for speaking to him.” He knew that her twin was still giving aid to those who arrived at Nargothrond’s borders although he eventually directed them away on safer passages. It still flouted Orodreth’s orders but at least it took Hallind a lot more effort to monitor Huindîr’s movements. Furthermore, the eyes from Orodreth’s court have yet to approach Hallind about the matter.

“Do you not frown upon the path he has chosen to take?” asked Eliniel. There was a note of wariness beneath her casual tone. From her words, it seems that she did not underestimate him.

“No,” he answered firmly. “He is doing what I cannot do.”

She weighed him with her bright eyes. “Well, he cannot do what you are doing,” she said in the end.

“And what would that be?”

Their gazes met and Eliniel gave him a faint but familiar smile. “You have remained steadfast despite all this chaos.”

Hallind laughed. “On some days, I wish I did not need to,” he replied. “Are you on your way to somewhere?”

“To the western quarters to meet Sedryn.”

Upon hearing the name, the urgency of Hallind’s upcoming mission resurfaced. “I am fortunate, then. Will you please let him know that I wish to speak with him before the day is over?”

A slight frown furrowed Eliniel’s brow. “If it is pressing, I will let him know the moment I see him.”

“No, please do not abandon your plans,” protested Hallind. “In fact, I must apologize to you both for I will be throwing your brother to the mercy of Nargothrond again very soon.”  
“Are you heading somewhere?” asked Eliniel in surprise.

Hallind nodded in reply. “A matter in the north requires me.”

“So soon?”

The brief flash of concern unmasked her and it strangely reassured Hallind. “I am afraid so,” he said.

Then suddenly, he saw the contradiction he had once witnessed resurface in Eliniel. It began as a brief hesitation, which quickly evolved to polite indifference. At that moment, Hallind chose to forgo subtlety. “Forgive me for asking, my lady, but have I offended you in any way?”

Eliniel’s nonchalance lapsed as she looked horrified by his question instead. “No! Not at all,” she began. Her lips moved to speak, yet no words followed. In the end, she emitted a quiet sigh. “There is something troubling me and I have allowed my hostility to be indiscriminate. Forgive me,” she replied as she tried harder to hide her fluster. “Darkness runs rampant out there. I wish you fortune in your matters and may Elbereth guide you safely back to Nargothrond once more, Lord Hallind. I take your leave.”

He thanked her for he did not know what else to say before she left, her green raiment bristling with her quick steps. Hallind felt perplexed. He wondered if he has read her wrongly all this time, until a memory nudged itself into his mind. 

It was the conversation both of them had shared soon after Nirnaeth Arnoediad began. It was also the day he fell for the maiden’s heart after falling for her beauty, both of face and mind. He remembered her admittance about losing her brothers and friends. There were a few in the march who shared her fear. Hallind has seen them cope by either being reckless or distant for the sake of evading grief. 

‘But why be distant towards me now?’ he asked himself. ‘Dare I believe so? Hope can be a cure or it can be a poison.’

Hallind sighed. It was undeniable that she would be the one he will long to see again if he does return from the north. To the empty colonnade, he quietly whispered his confession, “The matter at heart is that I have already begun to love you, Eliniel Faeveren.”


	41. Chapter 41

_Year 485 First Age, Spring ___

__The sun dipped into the western horizon, imbuing the lands with an orange and blue cast. A small patrolling company buried their camp, erasing all their traces before taking the north-east route._ _

__Idhrenol rode the leagues in reflective silence. It felt good to be out patrolling again. Nargothrond has been draining him over the past six years with a seemingly insatiable appetite._ _

__A change has come to the kingdom, breeding clear disparities among its populace. Valour was beginning to wake in the citizens, and while he was the acting chief marchwarden, hiding his true pleasure at this welcomed shift had been challenging. Its difficulty almost rivalled the disapproval he had to feign when a councillor had brought up the possibility of underhanded operations at Nargothrond’s borders with sanctuary seekers. When Hallind had first told him about Amaron’s deeds, Idhrenol had been surprised. Like his old friend, he did not disagree with his brother’s actions but that did not make him less paranoid when he needed to conceal the situation. It had made him wonder how Hallind withstood the secrecy and politics that indirectly plagued his position._ _

__The sparse woods passed quietly, the boles of sentinel-like ash trees casting close shadows under the moon’s bright gaze. Another two leagues swept past when Idhrenol heard a quick, faint rustle. He nudged Rovalon to slow as he peered into the night. Nothing._ _

__“Lord Sedryn?” called Legrin as the second-in-command rode up to him. The others had also reined in their steeds ahead after realising that their captain has stopped._ _

__“Did you notice the quick disturbance beyond that line of trees?”_ _

__“I saw nothing, my lord. A small creature, perhaps?”_ _

__Idhrenol shook his head. “The noise indicated something larger,” he answered._ _

__“Would you like to send the scouts in?” offered Legrin._ _

__Idhrenol continued seeking the dim woods. His instinct did not warm him of immediate danger. He wondered if it could be the group that other companies have reported sighting. They spoke of a band who attacked marauding orcs that came down this narrow strip of land between Nargothrond and Brethil. Some marchwardens had heard the skirmishes whereas others have encountered the fights’ aftermaths where smoking pyres made from enemy parts were usually found._ _

__“Nay, we are not many. Let us all find out,” replied Idhrenol. If a skirmish between this band and orcs were to take place, they were very close to Nargothrond’s borders. He wanted to be sure who this side was._ _

__Every marchwarden dismounted from their horses and stalked forward under the cover of shadows. They soon saw the outline of an orc rabble as the foul creatures emerged from a deep pit dug into the ground._ _

__But beyond the mass of disfigured bodies, Idhrenol saw hooded figures moving stealthily between the trees, no doubt encircling the enemy. Glancing upwards, he found more of the latter on the branches, taking aim at the orcs with longbows. The elves stood a mere fifty yards away from this imminent fight._ _

__A sparrow’s whistle, out of place and time, set off the bows. After two waves, the hooded figures rushed in headlong to meet the ambushed orcs, brandishing simple weapons. Battle cries in the Westron tongue echoed in the tight space._ _

__Idhrenol watched the orcs wake from their initial stun. Within seconds, they mounted a counter attack, first behind wide, burnished shields, then in a fervent charge. Their crash into the Men’s line was shrill._ _

__From what Idhrenol could discern, these Men were not the stock of noble houses. Their fighting lacked grace, preferring bluntness instead. They posed a lesser match against orcs that have spilled more blood._ _

__“Should we intervene?” asked Legrin._ _

__The Men were inexperienced. Their progress foretold this attack to be a costly one. “We will make this swift, and then retreat,” said Idhrenol._ _

__Their group of fifteen entered the skirmish from the western side, making quick work of the enemy. The Men cried out upon seeing the elves. Idhrenol joined the fray with his broadsword raised, slashing an orc with an upward stroke before heaving his shoulder into a running orc, felling it to the ground before another marchwarden plunged a spear into its chest._ _

__Idhrenol swung his sword in a wide arc to deter the enemy from surrounding him, but chains suddenly snaked out to grapple his weapon. He tugged hard to free it, pulling out his long knife with the other hand instead to parry another attack when an arrow of gold fletching whistled past his head and into the eyes of an orc with an axe not far behind._ _

__Idhrenol turned to look for the archer. “You are late, Sedryn,” said a very familiar voice._ _

__“Beleg!” cried Idhrenol in shock. “What are you doing here?”_ _


	42. Chapter 42

Idhrenol held out a waterskin to Beleg as he took a seat next to the marchwarden of Doriath. They watched the elves and men assemble a pyre of orc bodies in silence.

The skirmish had ended quickly after the Nargothrond marchwardens had intervened, although their presence on the battle ground had caused an initial, momentary shock to the men. According to Beleg, many of them were outlaws who often slunk away from any elf, let alone fifteen of them who were armed.

“So, what has removed you from Doriath?” asked Idhrenol in the midst of a lull. “And to find you in such company, no less.”

Beleg gave a wry smile. “It began as a duty to retrieve the king’s foster son,” he answered.

Idhrenol has heard whispers of what happens in Doriath when he was assuming the role of chief marchwarden. That rank had made him privy to much in Beleriand, although not all the information was useful. But this one particular tiding was something he has found most interesting because an Eldar had perished. “I am assuming he is a Man,” returned Idhrenol.

Beleg nodded once. “That is hardly a difficult guess.”

“He is not among us now?”

“He and his party are at Bar-en-danwedh.”

The conversation lapsed as they watched the rest of their company move among each other, executing their tasks. “I doubt you will answer how a retrieval mission came to this,” commented Idhrenol.

Beleg sniffed. “You should not even need to ask, for I know you to be a bright one. I believe your extended tenure in Hallind’s post has made you even sharper,” he replied with a smile.

“It has nursed a healthier level of cynicism in me,” said Idhrenol with a frown. There were times when he felt that Orodreth’s court behaved younger than the children his sister educated. But such matters were not to be vented to anyone. Deciding to change the subject, he continued while glancing at the sheathed sword that hung on the other elf’s belt, “I see you have forsaken Belthronding, though your arrows remain.”

“The longbow is cumbersome and recognisable when one wishes not to be,” replied Beleg. “Anglachel will serve me better.”

“It is no less ostentatious, my friend,” laughed Idhrenol. “There are already rumours of you and your new, little company in Nargothrond.”

“Are we so renowned now?” asked Beleg, who feigned a smirk.

“You are known as the mysterious force besides ours and Doriath’s that is warding away the orcs.”

“Is that not a good thing, then?”

His friend’s reply made Idhrenol pause because there were many answers to that question. “You are inciting valour in some of our folk,” he said in the end.

“And I will welcome them if they have Lord Orodreth’s leave,” said Beleg. “But I believe gaining that is the highest hurdle.”

Idhrenol said nothing. He could not. He watched the men set the pyre alight, a gesture to mark their victory. “Will you return to Doriath?” he asked Beleg.

“I will when this man decides to accept King Thingol’s pardon,” he answered before turning reflective. “It may be some time yet, since there is much pride in this one. I fear that if he chooses to revel in it, doom will find him in the same way it has found the others like and before him. This I have warned the youngling before.”

Idhrenol cast Beleg a sidelong glance. “Until then, central Beleriand might remain safe for a while from the enemy. A brazen shield held by pride and prowess, then flanked by deadly stealth and confounding arts on either side,” he said.

Both elves grinned at each other. “At least Huindîr is there in between,” said Beleg.

The Nargothrond elf merely smiled. He knew he did not need to explain anything, for Beleg would have already known, perhaps even understood the truth that was motivating Amaron’s actions.

Idhrenol’s own marchwardens who were tending to the wounded men began packing their kit. Some have brought the elven horses forward. It was time to leave.

“I wish you fortune in your endeavour here, Cúthalion,” said Idhrenol as he stood. He held out his hand to Beleg. “When the battles are won and amends are being made, I hope to see you in Nargothrond.”

“Likewise my wish, Sedryn,” replied Beleg as he clasped the elf’s forearm and gave the latter a friendly embrace. “May Elbereth’s light shine ever upon you.”

With that farewell, the two elves parted ways.

 

 

Languid footsteps padded upon the rich turf of spring. An air of sadness shrouded three friends as they walked together that morning towards the southern gate in Region. It was the location where hidden ferries awaited to transport messengers to and from Doriath.

Eliniel already felt the sore missing for her friends since the night before. It was only by a stroke of good fortune and perhaps, persistence by her brother that she was permitted to come to Doriath…or so Idhrenol had told her. She did not take to the proposition of visiting her friends very well at first. She had worried about the possibility of her absence being the time when her worst fears might be fulfilled. But her twin had been the one to convince her to go, lest melancholy ensnared her. 

A planned season away from the clutches of Nargothrond eventually became two years. Spending time with Hareth and Belron under the green canopy of Doriath has reminded her of the carefree spirit each of them once had in abundance. Belron has now seen his fair share of victories and retreats on the battlefield. Eliniel had been mortified when she heard him speak of his close escapes. Hareth, on the other hand, was holding her own responsibilities at the healing houses.

Her friends have flourished, but the matter that made Eliniel’s heart the gladdest was how little their friendship has waned despite the years. Their familiarity proved that they still have each other’s love and confidence. It almost made the maiden regret not being able to admit the true nature of her family to these two childhood companions.

As they continued walking, Eliniel linked her arms around those of Belron and Hareth. She gave the tall elf’s a slight squeeze, then leaned her head a moment on Hareth’s shoulder.

“Faeveren, you do realise that you can stay longer, right?” asked Belron. “I am certain your brothers would not object.”

“I do, but it is time for me to go, or my loremasters will disown me. Also, I do miss Nargothrond,” answered Eliniel with a smile. “It has become my home, after all. I do wish that you could come with me.”

“We will, the moment it is permissible again,” promised Hareth.

Eliniel has already felt a very familiar presence in the direction of the southern borders. As expected, when the three of them arrived at the gate, Amaron was in the midst of a conversation with two other Doriath marchwardens. He has not brought anyone else from Nargothrond. In truth, Eliniel knew that both of them would have little to be afraid of should they encounter an orc attack. But she always hoped that they would never be tested with such desperation.

“Huindîr,” hailed Belron.

Amaron returned the greeting. “I hope she was not a handful,” he said.

“Why else would you be taking her off our hands?” returned Belron with a laugh.

Eliniel scowled at them and feigned exasperation to Hareth. His jests with her would likely never change and yet, she knew that she would have preferred no less.

As Amaron brought Thandin, her horse, to stand next to Mithgalu, Eliniel gave each of her friends a long hug. It was then she suddenly felt a sense of foreboding filling her heart. The heaviness made her look upon the two companions again, as if memorising their faces.

“Faeveren?”

“Something feels amiss. It is nameless, and I like it not,” she said slowly. “Promise me, my dear Hareth and Belron, that you will look out for each other.”

Her friends gave their words and waited to wave her farewell until the ferry bearing the siblings disappeared around a river bend. At the other terminal, Amaron and Eliniel began their journey towards the Andram ranges on horseback. 

They exchanged tidings as they rode. Eliniel learnt that the tides in Nargothrond were evolving. She has not seen Amaron this hopeful since the day he found a way to circumvent the high council’s order and do what he believed was compassionately right for his kin. She was grateful when she felt his spark return all those years ago. This change he was speaking of now brought him even closer to the person she remembered.

“Hallind returned to Nargothrond not long after you had left,” said Amaron unexpectedly. “He asks after you. I told him you were spending time in Doriath.”

Eliniel felt an old grief resurface in her heart. “How is he?” she asked while maintaining the casual pretence of their conversation.

“He is different,” answered Amaron. “I see a haunted look in his eyes, and from what muindor has told me, his latest sojourn to the north has inflicted great strain upon him.”

“He has been gone for six years when he had thought that muindor only needed to helm his position for a year or two. A mission that extended must surely cost anyone,” she said.

“Indeed. The information he has uncovered was paid for dearly,” replied Amaron thoughtfully.

Eliniel then saw him cast her a long glance, as if studying her. “Forgive me if what I am about to say is disrespectful,” he began. “I do know how you feel about Hallind, perhaps not entirely but there is no denying that those happier sentiments have disappeared abruptly some time ago. Yet, I still feel the sorrow you try so hard to hide because time has denied you its balm. I believe I know the cause of your retreat and there is nothing weak about it. So heed me when I say that you do not always have to be strong, my dear sister.”

Eliniel did not answer. She felt the growing ache threaten to crush the walls she has spent so much time reinforcing. A minute part of her was angry at Amaron for reading her as well as he did.

“Eliniel-”

“No,” she cut him off, her voice harsh. “Please, I wish not to speak of this.”

Amaron relented, allowing silence to follow their journey until the sun was perched upon its apex. Only at one of their later stops, a calmer Eliniel turned to him and said, “I am sorry for snapping at you.”

Her twin gave her a warm smile. “Do you still believe that I truly understand you so little?” he asked in return. Eliniel could not help mirroring his expression. “Yet, I did mean what I said at the end,” continued Amaron as he kissed her crown, a gesture that he knew was sufficient to prove his unconditional support for her.

They continued riding towards the Andram with intentional haste, hoping to shorten the usual two-day journey by half. Long distances were covered when there was still daylight. They did not tarry at nightfall as well, but granted their horses short, frequent respites. They were fortunate that orcs were quite scarce in this heavily patrolled area, for the elves of both Nargothrond and Doriath were very determined to retain lands from further defilement by the enemy.

By early dawn, the hidden fort in the Andram came into view. As Amaron led the way on the hidden path, the winds brought Eliniel something vaguely familiar. She closed her eyes to help her locate the source and found it ahead, approaching ever closer.

She expected to discern Idhrenol’s presence, but it was not the unmistakable warmth, like the sun rays on a cold day. This one beckoned her with tremulous whispers.

Her search was interrupted when Amaron and she crossed the main gate’s threshold. They were met by a small company that began moving out soon after the two elves passed them. Eliniel then found the source of the whispers.

Hallind’s dark grey eyes met hers, reflecting surprise, which soon turned to quiet joy, before waxing and waning into uncertainty. Eliniel suddenly felt terrified at how she has managed to pick him out. She gave him a guarded smile and nodded to him, noticing too late the thin shadow of darkness that veiled his face.

Hallind tarried slightly, with just enough time to return her gesture as the last rider left the fort. Then he spurred his stallion out of the courtyard.


	43. Chapter 43

Idhrenol waited patiently in Orodreth’s private study, silent despite Hallind’s presence in the same room. He has already conveyed his report to the chief marchwarden, who has at last returned to his usual capacity after a harrowing ordeal two years before.

Both the elves hoped that after imparting this latest news regarding the narrow strip between their kingdom and Doriath, Nargothrond would, at the very least, cling on to its remaining honour and not act unwisely. Considering the climate that hovered over Nargothrond now, rash actions would not be well-received by the people.

The doors opened and Orodreth swept in. “So who leads the mysterious company?” he asked.

“Beleg Cúthalion and Turin Hurinion, my lord,” answered Idhrenol.

Orodreth stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned to face the two elves standing before him. “Where?”

Idhrenol knew that Bar-en-danwedh was not the actual name of the location. So shortly after his encounter with Beleg, Idhrenol had tracked a few of the Men. It was evident that Beleg has imparted a measure of skill to them, for the Nargothrond captain’s attempt was foiled after a distance. Fortunately, sufficient information had been gathered by then, allowing Hallind and himself to narrow down the outlaws’ location to a lone mountain south of Brethil.

“Amon Rûdh, though I am not entirely certain.”

Orodreth sat down behind his desk, lacing his fingers together as he thought. “Are they getting ever closer to our borders?” he asked in the end.

Idhrenol did not know. It was one of the last questions he expected to receive, for in his eyes, Beleg and Turin’s efforts were not considered insidious. Before he could answer, Hallind spoke.

“Unlikely, my lord. They have kept to the neutral land between our kingdom and King Thingol’s. Beleg appears to be aware of our boundaries and its laws. Orcs that do escape their clutches are few, so they pose no challenge to our sentries.”

Orodreth deliberated. “What do you think of them?” he asked the two marchwardens. That question lit all the signs for caution.

“They can be our allies,” replied Idhrenol. Next to him, Hallind nodded curtly in agreement. “They are helping to keep the peace in central Beleriand, after all.”

“Peace?” Orodreth raised an eyebrow at Idhrenol. “Perhaps so, but in time, the eye of the Dark One will turn towards them. Surely that will spell the end of peace.’  
‘I am aware of what my people wish to do and their reasons. They are suddenly inspired to lend their sword to these mighty defenders. Yet, what is the might of Strongbow and Dragonhelm when Morgoth hurls his might at them? It is still not worth the risk to expose the kingdom.”

“Pardon me, my lord, we are not speaking of sending a regimen of our army to Beleg’s aid, merely careful numbers of those who can and wishes to go. It could lift the morale of our people,” said Hallind.

Idhrenol tried not to glance at his friend. Those were brave, yet wrath-invoking words.

Orodreth’s eyes grew hard. “Have you forgotten your state when you last returned, Hallind? We may not be so fortunate to have all our people be as steadfast as both of you,” he said.

Hallind tried to reply but Orodreth silenced him and continued, “You know that much is true. The masses are fickle, and so are many of the councillors. They do not realise this, for these people have lived their lives under the weight of tomes, not the blood of their kin. It is too late to make them realise this or undo the events that has brought them here.” At the last, there was almost a wistfulness to his tone before it turned harsh again. “I will not allow my people to rush out of the kingdom just because a group of Men have outshone them in valour!”

Silence filled the room, until Hallind spoke again. “What do you propose then, my lord?”

Orodreth heaved a quiet sigh. “Tell Beleg to keep the fighting away from Nargothrond. Then, secure our kingdom in the northern side now that we have more allies in the east. If there are no other matters, please leave me be,” he answered.

At the dismissal, both elves bowed and marched out of the study. Idhrenol exhaled a long breath once they left Orodreth’s residence.

“Your thoughts, Sedryn?” asked Hallind.

Idhrenol knew it to be a guileless invitation. “Will we ever return to the time when we were a better kingdom?”

“No,” replied Hallind. “Times are fluid and our expectations are, unfortunately, often not.” They turned down another quiet hallway.

“And your thoughts, Hallind?”

“I think the valorous spirit in Orodreth is trying to rise above. He appears to have realised where his decisions has led Nargothrond as he compares the state of things now against the state when his brother was lord,” answered Hallind. “He may choose to redeem himself, and I do not believe that the present, or tomorrow, will be too late. However, I do hope that he does not wait for a more glorious redemption, which could tether along greater risk and perhaps, even folly.”

Idhrenol digested the words, finding it curious as to how Hallind actually read Orodreth. But the chief marchwarden was rarely wrong in such matters. “Are we the weaker for staying away like this while others help protect our borders?” he asked.

Hallind returned the greeting of a passerby. “Neither. For now our status is unchanged, and whether that makes us strong or weaker is determined by the eyes that judge it. But I am truly glad for the awakening valour in our people,” he replied.

They continued walking awhile in silence. “Does Huindîr know about Beleg?” asked Hallind out of the blue.

Idhrenol shrugged. “Beleg has spoken about him and his…movements. I doubt Huindîr would keep a meeting between both of them from me or even you, after his realisation.”

“Regardless, tell your brother to stay out of this. The thing he does is risk enough,” said Hallind as they halted at a crossroad. “Relay the decision to Beleg, Sedryn. I shall take your leave here.”

“A moment,” said Idhrenol to the other elf. “About securing the north, you can leave that to another, my friend. Nargothrond needs you here now.”

There was a flicker of darkness in Hallind’s eyes. But his voice was confident when he spoke. “They have you,” he answered with a smile. “I have no qualms in going, for our northern boundaries are far from that place. I must be able to venture this short distance, otherwise I am of no use to this kingdom. Yet, I thank you, my friend, for your concern.”

Reassured, Idhrenol bade his farewell. From the crossroad, he took the left turn towards a square in the western quarters. After crossing a bustling street, he strode into another avenue that led to the residences in the area. Past a large, bronze fountain where Yavanna and Aulë stood resplendent in the centre, Idhrenol approached a towering pillar with wide stairs wound around it. He ascended the ornate structure quickly, knowing that this meeting with Orodreth has made him tardy.

Exiting at the highest level, he walked towards an archway which led to an alcove. Set within was a cosy garden which extended outwards from the foundation of Nargothrond’s hills. Close knits of trees obscured the platform from foreign eyes, although golden sunrays could still pierced through at certain times of the day. 

The twins turned to him when he entered. “I thought you were not going to show,” said Eliniel.

“I am sorry. The duration of my meetings with Lord Orodreth will forever more remain unpredictable, it seems,” replied Idhrenol who noticed that his siblings have only just started their repast. 

“How was your patrol?” asked Amaron.

“Interesting,” he answered. “I met the mysterious people on Talath Dirnen.”

“Indeed! Who are they?”

Idhrenol gave Amaron a quick account of what had transpired the day his company met Beleg. After that, he conveyed Orodreth’s order and Hallind’s warning. 

“Why are we not offering the company aid?” asked Amaron. Such questions have stopped carrying the incredulity and frustration that had plagued his younger brother not long ago. Idhrenol was relieved to hear that Eliniel had helped Amaron return to his even-tempered, sensible self before anger destroyed him.

“Lord Orodreth wishes to safeguard Nargothrond. In light of recent events, he fears that none of our people will survive the enemy prisons without divulging the kingdom’s secret if they are captured,” answered Idhrenol ruefully. “Have you ever met the foster son of King Thingol, a Man named Turin?”

Amaron shook his head. “Queen Melian has requested me to advice him against haste should I ever meet him. Other than that, I have only heard Beleg speak of him. I gather he is a very young ward with a brooding temperament,” he said.

“Is he not the one implicated in the death of an Eldar?” asked Eliniel. “There were whispers of it when I had arrived in Doriath.”

“That is the prevailing rumour,” returned Idhrenol. “How was your time in that kingdom?”

“Much needed, upon hindsight,” she said.

“That is good. You could have stayed longer.”

“Did you tell Belron to say that?”

“I have told him to say nothing,” replied Idhrenol.

Eliniel peered suspiciously at him, but did not press the matter further. “My tutelage with Daeron has also completed in good time for me to return for Nost-na-Lothion,” she said. “Will you be joining me this year, muindor?”

He thought of the tasks before him and shook his head. “I am sorry, little one. I cannot promise you my participation yet,” he replied.

Eliniel nodded, familiar with the kingdom’s demands of him due to the past eight years. A question Idhrenol had once meant to ask her resurfaced unbidden to his mind at that moment. “Sometimes I wish for someone who could be there for you. Has no one caught your eye in Nargothrond, or even Doriath?”

A gurgle suddenly escaped from Amaron. Idhrenol turned to look in surprise at his brother who was coughing from his drink.

“I think the more accurate question to ask is whose heart has she caught?” explained Amaron drily as he set his goblet down and dusted himself.

“Is that so? Whose?” asked Idhrenol, piqued with curiosity. But once he made that query, he saw Eliniel giving Amaron a stormy glare that could shrivel many. Their brother, however, merely smiled, for he knew well when to actually fear her wrath.

Glancing at Idhrenol, Amaron replied, “He is our commander.”

The older elf stared after Amaron, pondering the identity of this soul in question, until a name clicked. “Hallind?” That was not who he had expected. “Is this true?” Idhrenol asked Eliniel incredulously.

She did not answer him, but continued looking darkly at her twin. “You know I mean well. Maybe muindor can sway you better in this than me,” said Amaron to her as he extended a hand to touch her cheek. Idhrenol saw the anger disperse into sorrow, another emotion he has not seen in her for a while.

The younger elf stood and gathered his belongings. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to start my work at the healing houses,” continued Amaron. “I shall see you later in the evening.”

Once he left, Idhrenol looked at his sister, still digesting the earlier revelation. She ignored him by clearing the items on their spread. There was no trace of levity in her expression when Hallind’s name was revealed, which made Idhrenol wonder. “Eliniel,” he began tentatively.

Eliniel met his eyes and drew a long sigh. “What do you wish me to tell you?”

“Is it true, what Huindîr has said?”

“Why do you ask me again when you know it was not a jest?” she answered testily.

“I have no intention to tease you, little one,” he said gently.

She sighed again. “The name is true.”

“I certainly did not expect that,” admitted Idhrenol.

“Neither did Huindîr, I think,” sniffed Eliniel.

“Since when did this begin?”

“Right before Nirnaeth Arnoediad broke.”

“What happened thereafter?”

“Nothing,” she replied.

“Oh, Eliniel,” said Idhrenol with an exhale of sympathy. Then it dawned on him. “Or is it because you did not allow him the chance?”

She did not reply this time. But her silence was answer enough for him. Idhrenol edged closer and stopped her from packing their basket. “What happened, little one?”

There was a long pause before Eliniel looked at him with the bluest eyes. “I cannot begin to love him, muindor,” she almost whispered.

“Why not?”

Another long moment passed as she struggled to frame her answer. “Because I am afraid. I already fear losing you and Huindîr, and you are both the stronger ones. When I saw him return from the battle of Ered Wethrin, it had reminded me of his mortality. It showed me how unprepared I still am after all this time. After he left for his last venture, I thought my heart would learn to forget him.”

“Has it forgotten, then?” he asked. She replied him with a sidelong glance that held her answer.

He stretched his arm across her shoulders and wrapped her in half an embrace. “My dear Eliniel, it is true you cannot begin to love Hallind, not anymore at least, because you already do. Maybe it is time to let go and make space in your heart once again,” he said with an encouraging smile.

As Eliniel appeared to contemplate his words, Idhrenol’s thoughts shifted to Hallind. He did not recall catching a single hint from his friend. He felt both deceived and impressed.

An amused laugh suddenly escaped his lips, causing his sister to stare at him. “Of all the people in Nargothrond, it turned out to be him,” answered Idhrenol. “And yet, I think he is one of the worthiest.”


	44. Chapter 44

There was a festive mood in the air. Streets, such as the one Hallind was on, were strung with twinkling lights and garlands, an announcement that Nost-na-Lothion was today.

He walked unhurriedly as he contemplated his selection of marchwardens for an upcoming scout at Ered Wethrin. The overdue reinforcement of that narrow pass could now be done since Beleg and his independent company were securing a part of Beleriand, intentionally or otherwise.

‘After the captain’s quarters, you ought to join the festivities,’ he reminded himself. In truth, he continued with his work so diligently because he finally felt whole after so many months.

As he approached the edge of the northern quarters, Hallind heard rowdy cheers coming from a grand plaza. There was a magnificent marquee erected in the centre, housing an exuberant celebration. A group of elflings were waving to someone from the plaza’s fringes. He followed their line of sight and saw Eliniel.

His pace slowed as he took a moment to look at her. She was as beautiful as he remembered, although her blue eyes still held a sorrow he did not fully grasped. Hallind found himself reluctant to greet her, a realisation which perplexed him.

But Eliniel saw him. She appeared tentative at first, before she gave him the smile he remembered with much fondness. The elf took that gesture as good sign.

“Hallind,” she greeted. She has not used his title, unlike the last time they had spoken. His heart accepted the sliver of hope, reasoning that eight years have passed after all.

‘That does not mean she has changed her opinion about your worth to her,’ he chided himself before returning the greeting. “A beautiful day to you, Eliniel. It seems you already had an eventful start to the festival.”

Her smile deepened. “It is one of the reasons why I love Nost-na-Lothion,” she replied. “Are you in a hurry?”

“Not quite. I only mean to drop in at the mustering courtyard to complete an errand.”

“Would you like to join me for a while, then?” invited Eliniel as she indicated to the remaining feast, which was still ample. 

“Why not?” replied Hallind. He followed her towards the now-quiet marquee, watching the maiden run her hand delicately along the flowering creepers that flourished on a low fence, causing the shy buds to close upon her touch.

“How have you been?” asked Eliniel as she handed him a glass. She sounded nervous, which struck Hallind as odd.

“As well as I can be,” he answered. He was about to return the question when he saw her eyes searching his face and peering into his soul.

“Yet, you look different.”

Hallind gave her a wan smile. “You might have heard that my last venture abroad was harsher than many others I have been in,” he said. At the same time, he felt himself grow tense as he inadvertently harked back to the memories.

“What happened?” she asked. But before he could answer, a frown crinkled her brow and he saw realisation pass Eliniel’s eyes. “No…what did they do to you?”

Hallind concealed his shudder. Recounting it the first, and only time to Galadhon and Sedryn had been truly difficult. He braced himself for the terror to sweep him.

The ordeal had begun when Mablung and Hallind’s company were separated in the northeastern mountains after a brutal fight with the enemy scouts. They had been greatly outnumbered by the orcs, for the elves were very close to the garrison they had been seeking for months. Out of their company of twenty, Hallind and eight others had been captured.

The enemy had imprisoned them deep underground. A thousand nights had passed, in cramped cells where the air was stifled and hot, as if furnaces burned below them.

At constant intervals, he and the other prisoners were each tortured to within an inch of their life, then left alone with just enough time to recover until the cycle repeated itself. The orcs had called it a deserving punishment for trespassing.

Once the enemy had discovered that some of the elves were from Nargothrond, the beatings ebbed, only to be replaced by no less barbarous means to extract the kingdom’s location for Morgoth.

Hallind had watched many of his marchwardens perish before he heard Mablung’s voice one day, like a faraway dream, urging him to wake. The escape remained a blur to Hallind, although he remembered feeling his eyes and skin burn in the glorious sunlight the moment he was brought out of the enemy’s garrison.

“We had been imprisoned in the enemy’s dungeons for more than three years. Mercy and hope do not live in that deep fortress, for death had hovered over many of us but the enemy always knew when to drag us away from its doorsteps, just to mock our pleas to end the suffering. I will never wish anyone the pain that was inflicted upon us,” said Hallind quietly. He tried to keep his voice steady.

Eliniel regarded him with horror. “I am sorry,” she said. “Speak no more of it, for I know it is difficult for you.”

“It is alright,” returned Hallind. “Perhaps speaking of it may help me fear the memory less.” He suddenly realised that he was waiting for Eliniel to retreat, like she had in their last few encounters.

But that distant look in her eyes came and went. That small gesture strangely stoked his courage. His heart began to nudge him, persuading him to speak the words he has given up on ever voicing.

“Your defiance is beyond admirable,” said Eliniel.

Hallind shook his head. “Truthfully, I should not fear perishing in those dungeons, for little awaits my return in Nargothrond,” he answered. Another voice in his mind cried, ‘Say it now or hold your peace forever!’

“Yet, in one of my darkest moments there, I had thought of you because I regretted the way we had parted,” he began.

There was a change in Eliniel’s expression. Hallind insisted to himself that there was no turning back now. “I must confess that our last encounter was not the only thing I found myself regretting,” he continued. “The day I left, I wished I had the courage to say that I have already begun to love you, from the chanced moment in the Great Hall, and even more ever since. All these years away, it is a sentiment that has not changed.’

‘Eliniel, I know that I am not someone you would care to have in your life, for I could be another to bring you distress with what I do. It is, however, who I am. My heart has decided not to let me be if its intention is kept silenced-”

“Please stop,” whispered Eliniel.

Hallind faltered. He felt crimson heat rise to his face, betraying his mortification at his own brazenness. There was alarm upon Eliniel’s face. “Forgive me, it appears I have overstepped my bounds. I did not mean to offend you,” he said hurriedly. He was about to turn away when her hand touched his arm.

“Hallind, wait,” called Eliniel.

The elf wondered if he could suffer any more of the embarrassment. But when he met her gaze, his eyes dove into clear, blue skies reflecting hope.

“I did not mean to push you away,” she said, her cheeks blushing red. “In fact, I have never meant to do that. But I am a fool when it comes to my heart. It has frightened me how quickly and deeply I was drawn to you…how I am still, from that very same chanced moment and ever since. My grave mistake was to allow my courage to fail.’  
‘I fear losing you to the darkness because I dare not imagine how stricken I would become should it happen. I tried so hard to forget you, believing it to be for the best. But Hallind, I could not. Walking away from the good that was in front of me has made me more wretched than being afraid of a dread that may not happen.” Eliniel paused to draw in a deep breath.

Hallind took her words in with stunned silence. He dared not move. His pulse thundered in his ears.

“I am truly sorry for hurting you,” said Eliniel. “After all this time, you still have my heart.”

The diminutive spark of joy suddenly ignited into a flame. Hallind slowly reached out to take her hand. With his other, he gently tilted her chin to him. His lips curved into a smile that understated the emotions he truly felt. “As you have mine, Eliniel Faeveren.”

At last, he understood the sorrow that swam in her eyes, for he saw them fade away with his words. Pulling her close, he brought his lips to hers, savouring the moment he has yearned for so long. The hurt and the apprehension wilted away, replaced by an indescribable happiness rimmed with hope.

“I remember owing you a dance,” she said when they pulled apart.

“You told me I could have every one of them,” he replied.

Eliniel laughed, a melody he missed hearing. “So I did,” she conceded. “Shall I meet you in the Great Hall?”

Hallind looked at her in puzzlement at first, until he remembered his errand. He certainly did not want anyone from Orodreth’s court to interrupt his celebration of Nost-na-Lothion tonight. “I will not be long,” he said.

“As long as you turn up this time,” replied Eliniel with a wink.

Hallind made his way quickly towards the Doors of Felagund. He was hailed by Sedryn who was in the captain’s quarters, rifling through several reports.

“You seem full of cheer,” commented Sedryn. Then, he narrowed his eyes at Hallind. “Did you just come from the northern gardens?”

“Yes.”

Then Sedryn broke into a slight smile. “Hallind, may I be brutally plain with you?”

Hallind looked questioningly at his friend. “I would prefer it,” he answered.

“If you ever break her heart, I promise I will break your every limb,” said Sedryn, his tone ominous.

Hallind was struck with such relief that it made him laugh. “If I ever,” he answered while offering Sedryn his hand as a sign of his word, “I will let you, without a fight.”


	45. The 3rd Interlude

_Year 490, First Age ___

__Idhrenol heard the front door open. He quickly ran down the blue-painted corridor, panic seizing his throat like a vice. He could not tell who has entered due to the bright light behind the figure. Only when the door shut did he discover it was his sister._ _

__“Eliniel, you must go now!” he said with urgency. But right then, a deafening bang reverberated through the air._ _

__Idhrenol pushed past Eliniel, donning the helm that was tucked under his arm as he stepped out onto the mustering courtyard of Nargothrond. There, he saw Amaron atop his grey stallion along with thousands of others. Each of them was looking straight ahead._ _

__He felt an icy chill pierce his heart when he witnessed the full spectacle beyond the Doors of Felagund. Under the dark skies outside, stood a legion of balrogs and orcs. He even glimpsed a teasing glitter of red and gold scales behind the enemy army._ _

__The earth beneath Idhrenol’s feet suddenly shook. Red washed the roaring skies, swift as a coursing current. Through the great doors, forked tongues of fire clawed into Nargothrond. Idhrenol turned his face away but still felt it burn. He also saw the long arms of the blaze envelope his brother and the rest of his people._ _

__“Amaron!” cried Idhrenol._ _

__With a jerk, he woke sitting up in his bed, breathing heavily. The heat of the dream began dissipating._ _

__A knock then rapped against his chamber’s doors. Idhrenol assumed it to be Eliniel, since she was canny to all their moods. But it was Gelmir, his squire, who announced himself._ _

__Idhrenol consented to the entry after recomposing himself. Gelmir stood at the doorway, a troubled expression upon his face._ _

__“My lord, I bring word from Lord Gwindor who has just returned to Nargothrond,” said the elf. There was a hesitation before he continued, “I am sorry, but Lord Beleg has gone to the Halls of Mandos.”_ _

__The breath escaped Idhrenol’s lungs. Beleg was dead. “How?” he demanded, before remembering that Gelmir has also mentioned another name. “Lord Gwindor? As in the prince who had left for Nirnaeth Arnoediad is back in the kingdom?”_ _

__“Yes, the very same,” replied Gelmir. “He was there when Lord Beleg Cúthalion was slain, and he said that you may speak with him after he has addressed the high council. The kingdom is in a stir right now, for Lord Gwindor has brought a Secondborn with him here.”_ _

__Idhrenol stopped. There were so many questions. “A descendant from the line of Barahir?” wondered Idhrenol, for to his knowledge, no other family from that race was held in higher honour in Nargothrond._ _

__Gelmir shook his head. “I know not, my lord,” he answered. “The Man only gave his name as Agaerwen, son of Umarth.”_ _


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been a few months, but now that life's events have mellowed, perhaps it is time for me to return to Beleriand.  
> Also done a reread, realised that I have accidentally named the family's squire after Gwindor's brother. In this case, he isn't :) And one more thing, just to confirm that I have indeed followed the Silmarillion's version for Orodreth's kinship.

_Year 491, First Age ___

__

__Eliniel sat in a majestic glade of oaks, a league west from the Doors of Felagund. She has settled in the nook of a great tree, and whispers of the southerly wind caressed her face. A small, red, linen-bound volume lay open in her palms._ _

__Her eyes moved across the paragraphs in the book, her mind painting the landscape and movements of each character in vivid details with each read word. The stories danced around her, until she perceived a very familiar quiver in the near air. It was a serenading breeze that breathed contentment into her heart. Eliniel sat up and searched, seeing in the eye of her mind, an approaching figure._ _

__“It is not safe for you to be out here alone,” said a voice a while later._ _

__Eliniel beamed at Hallind when he appeared. “I am not alone now.”_ _

__He replied her with a patient smile. “Nonetheless, dearest of my heart.”_ _

__She watched him remove his travelling gear. “How did you know where to find me?” asked Eliniel. She was about to go meet Hallind at the kingdom gates before he came this way.  
“I met Huindîr halfway down the Narog junction. He told me you have planned to spend the afternoon here, so I took a detour,” he answered._ _

__She grinned, for she knew the truth. “And how was your journey?”_ _

__“We had encountered some resistance, although it was nothing too difficult,” said Hallind as he sat down. Then he laid his head upon her lap and added after a long sigh, “I am, however, utterly wearied.”_ _

__Eliniel swept the hair away from Hallind’s closed eyes. The toll of the previous months was bowing his back. The kingdom has demanded much of his time to be spent abroad or present in Orodreth’s long councils. Even though she was more assured of his capabilities now compared to before, there was no denying that she still preferred Hallind to be in Nargothrond. The memory of seeing him return in a battered state could not be erased from her mind. She silently thanked Gwaewcol for delivering him home safely before picking up her book again._ _

__“What have you got there?” asked Hallind, who opened an eye to peer at the text._ _

__“It is an account of life in Balannor, as told by the High Elves. It had taken me a while to find such an old text,” said Eliniel._ _

__“That is unsurprising since the tales remind the Noldor what they have lost. My parents used to read me those stories when I was an elfling,” replied Hallind, who closed his eyes again._ _

__“But some of these accounts are dry!”_ _

__“Not to them! It is the peril of having not one, but two loremasters as parents,” said Hallind with a fond smile. “One of my favourite tales is when the Valar were seeking two to guide the Sun and Moon chariots.”_ _

__“I think I prefer the account of Ossë bringing Tol Eressëa to Balannor. Also the stories between Súlimo and Thorondor are captivating,” said Eliniel. “So many of the Sindar dream only of the coast, but do you ever wonder how the Blessed Realm looks like?”_ _

__“So many times,” answered Hallind. “But the way is shut to us now, much like Nargothrond to the rest of Beleriand.”_ _

__“At least a few of us are allowed to venture out,” remarked Eliniel._ _

__A faint smile stretched the corner of Hallind’s lips as he reached a finger out to gently tap the side of her nose. She laughed and carried on with her book._ _

__The sun continued its graceful descent, until it hovered above the dark horizon. Eliniel then put the red volume aside and leaned back to bask in the clement weather._ _

__Her companion stirred. She knew that he never permitted sleep to wrap him entirely when out in the open. “Hallind,” she called softly, “Have you ever thought about how different your life would be if the march was not a part of it?”_ _

__“It is not as much anymore,” he answered with his eyes still closed. “You have already stolen most of my affection for it.”_ _

__Eliniel laughed. “Speak truly, Hallind!”_ _

__The elf paused in reflection. “My life would undoubtedly be peaceful,” he began. “I would like to discover metal craft, and I could go on to learn more about the lands beyond its use as a fortification. When I was an elfling, I often imagined riding through the forests of Oromë and strolling in Lorien. Unfortunately, the time of my birth does not permit me that privilege.”_ _

__Hallind studied her for a moment before Eliniel saw a spark of mischief flare in his eyes. “Why do you ask? Are you stipulating the conditions for your hand?”_ _

__“I have no such conditions for you!” answered Eliniel. “And you already have my vow.”_ _

__The elf sat up next to her. In a more serious note, he said, “There is no other who can wish for a quieter time than me, for I will at last be able to stand by your side. Is there something troubling you? Unless I am mistaken, there appears to be a shadow upon your thoughts of late. This makes me wonder, why indeed, have you asked me that previous question.”_ _

__Eliniel was aware that Hallind was better at reading her now. She also knew about this shadow he spoke of seeing, because it was a matter that has been festering in her heart for a year. It was clear that she was not the only one who sensed that something was askew. Amaron has felt it as well, even Idhrenol, although the latter chose to speak very little of it._ _

__“Something nameless looms over Nargothrond, and I can hear her song waning. It worries me that the kingdom will have to withstand another threat just when she has risen to her feet,” she answered before glancing at Hallind. “It strikes even more anxiety in me when I know that you are at the helm. I just do not wish to see her cost you so much.”_ _

__Hallind kissed her hand in affection. “You know the march is not the only thing I know, Eliniel. Furthermore, ambition did not motivate my rise to this station; therefore I have no qualms in leaving it.”_ _

__She nodded, because Hallind had explained the reason to her years ago. He had been curious about the march, and believed that he would have ample time to return to his father’s profession. But fate had taken his parents away, thereby kindling the fierce anger of youth in his heart that never made him look back again._ _

__“Forget not that it is your loyalty and love for Nargothrond, not ambition, that keeps you in the march, Hallind,” reminded Eliniel._ _

__The chief marchwarden gave her a wan smile. “Let us hope the waning of Nargothrond’s song is to make way for a newer, stronger one,” he said. “Since the reclamation of the northern passes, Lord Orodreth has shown signs of betterment, or at least a willingness to draw the kingdom back to some glory. With the Man who had returned with Lord Gwindor, many of our victories have been assured thus far.”_ _

__Eliniel wrinkled her nose at the mention of Agaerwen. “There is something following that Man which I cannot place. He makes me uncomfortable, and I pray that you stay wary of him.”_ _

__“I still do not understand why you distrust him,” replied Hallind. “Yet, for your sake, I promise to heed your advice.” With a kiss on her lips, he stood up and fetched his cloak. “Now, my lady, as much as I love the stars on a cloudless evening, I would rather cherish them without wondering if something lurks in the shadows. We should return.”_ _

__“We are still in Nargothrond, my lord,” protested Eliniel although she allowed him to pull her to her feet._ _

__“Regardless. I wish nothing to take you away from me,” answered Hallind._ _

__As he gathered his gear, Eliniel kissed her hand and touched it to the oak’s trunk. ‘Until next time, naneth,’ she whispered in her heart before they left._ _

__

__

__The ringing of a sword and a yelp preceded the silence in a small village fifty leagues north of Nan-Tathren. Then, gradually, muffled cries of relief followed._ _

__Amaron saw his company fall into their tasks- a group securing the area, another gathering the dead, while a third group began succouring for survivors and attending to the wounded. The elf scanned the village, finding the one he sought inspecting a wound on his own thigh. The Man tore off a strip from his tunic to staunch the blood._ _

__“My lord,” saluted Agaerwen when he saw Amaron approach._ _

__“Are you alright?”_ _

__The Man nodded. He has proven to be a seasoned fighter, even possessing a measure of elven skills. Agaerwen has indeed learnt well from Lord Gwindor when both of them were returning from the Wilderness. Amaron no longer worried about this Secondborn’s mortality after their third patrol. A fire was in Agaerwen’s heart, and it was a force that drove him. He had requested for enlistment after only half a year of recovering from his ordeal in the desolate lands._ _

__Amaron watched his new marchwarden, measuring his understanding of the movements on the field. It was the first time, in all their patrols together, that they were encountering survivors. “Speak your mind,” said the elf._ _

__“Is this not against the Lord of Nargothrond’s order?” asked Agaerwen._ _

__“Yes.”_ _

__“Am I not to reveal this to Lord Orodreth and Lord Hallind?”_ _

__Amaron was quite certain that despite saying nothing, Hallind was aware of the things his company did a long time ago. Fortunately, Orodreth still appeared to know nothing of it._ _

__“That would be preferable, yet it is your choice,” answered Amaron genuinely. “Each of us here has accepted our actions to be both a responsibility and a crime, depending on the eyes that judge it. We maintain that our way is the right thing to do, and we are prepared for the consequences.”_ _

__Agaerwen regarded the activities on the field in silence. “I have seen many of such survivors before,” he said at last, his voice soft. “They were treading the narrow path between two kingdoms, with such explicit desire to remain away from Nargothrond’s borders. Many of us did not understand the need to render our help at first, until one in our company swayed our hearts. He said that someone has to look out for the displaced.”_ _

__Amaron raised an eyebrow at the Man. “Who?” he asked._ _

__Hesitation briefly passed Agaerwen’s brow. “A dear friend whom I have lost too soon,” he answered. “What can I do to help, Lord Huindîr?”_ _

__The elf cast his eyes back to the village. “Report to Taraeth,” he replied after deciding not to press this grievance further. The Man bowed his head in acknowledgement, and made his way to the company’s second-in-command._ _

__Amaron pondered Agaerwen’s revelation upon the latter’s departure. He has heard the same words said to him a few years ago._ _

__His company had halted at the edge of Nargothrond’s eastern borders to give aid to a small group of fleeing elves. Amaron had spotted a familiar figure at the edge of the Ravines of Teiglin. The ease of spotting this person only meant that he intended to be found._ _

__Beleg had nodded to Amaron, saying, “Worry not, young Huindîr. I have heard of your lord’s decree, and I will not reveal your deeds here. Others may not yet understand your reasons, but I agree that someone has to look out for the displaced. I am glad it is you.”_ _

__Amaron sniffed at his own feeble suspicions. Agaerwen had already told the kingdom’s council that he was, for a brief time, in Beleg Cúthalion and Turin’s company before he was captured by orcs._ _

__‘It only proves that Beleg has taught this Man something good. Where is the error in that?’ thought Amaron. ‘Agaerwen is not getting the credit his deserves simply because you think there is something about him.’ With a disdainful sigh at himself, he started into the village and began his work._ _


	47. Chapter 47

Idhrenol strode down the main hallway in long strides. The kingdom chatter below was at a low hum, marking the hour as twilight. The elf swung his cloak around him, so as to cover the light armour he usually wore for patrols.

He mentally went over the unfamiliar route his company was about to take. The coming scout was going to be long, and it has to be completed before the advent of winter. It was actually upon Orodreth’s insistence that Idhrenol be the one to head this undertaking.

He was required to ride up to Ered Wethrin first, along with five of his skilled trackers. They needed to ensure that the northern fort remained patent and impenetrable, before meeting the rest of the company to scout the lands of Brithombar. They were also instructed to mark the areas that could be fortified. 

As Idhrenol descended one of the wide, spiralling staircases, he heard soft footsteps approaching ahead. “Lord Gwindor!” he hailed when the figure rounded the corner.

“Sedryn,” returned Gwindor warmly. “All is well?”

“It is. I hope the same goes for you, my lord?”

The two elves have only met a handful of times ever since Gwindor’s return to the kingdom. Their first reacquaintance had been a dark one, for that was when Idhrenol learnt of the fate that had befallen Beleg Cúthalion.

According to Gwindor, he had first met Beleg on Taur-nu-Fuin. The Doriath marchwarden had been on a search for Turin, but Beleg halted his quest to nurse the wretched prince of Nargothrond back from the brink of death instead. In repayment, Gwindor had rendered his help, not knowing that it would be months later before they would finally locate the orcs who held Turin captive.

The confrontation between the elves and enemy was described as brutal, although the good had prevailed in the end. When Turin’s bonds had been cut, Beleg was dealt a fell, hidden stroke by a desperate orc. Distraught and dazed from all the previous torture, Turin had fled into the stormy night. The quest was lost, but chance had permitted Gwindor to save another Man instead.

At first, Idhrenol had denied the demise of Beleg. He was angry at the poor death of his friend, believing it to be unbefitting for a figure of such renown. Only after countless long reflections did Idhrenol concede to his grief, admitting to himself that fatalities in war and battles were rarely heroic.

“I am well,” answered Gwindor presently. “How is your family?”

“They are both preoccupied of late, but I will send them your regards,” said Idhrenol. “Actually, Huindîr should be returning today with Agaerwen.”

“Certainly after an uneventful patrol, which is the want of every marchwarden. I wish you the same in your upcoming journey,” said Gwindor as he referred to Idhrenol’s garb. “Apologies, my friend. I shall need to take your leave, for it would not be wise to keep Lady Finduilas waiting.”

“Of course not, my lord! My best wishes to her,” replied Idhrenol.

All their encounters have been similarly brief and trivial since the conveyance of sorrowful tidings. Idhrenol had also been unable to learn more about Agaerwen from Gwindor beyond what the Man had claimed. Even Hallind could not obtain further information other than Agaerwen’s brief stint with the company at Dor-Cuarthol. ‘Alas! how little we know about the Secondborn,’ thought Idhrenol.

He continued making his way to the mustering ground, drinking in the calmness within Nargothrond. However, the reflexive ease of this personal ritual has lessened of late. It worried him, for he could approximately place when this difficulty started occurring. 

Idhrenol knew that he was not one to give in easily to auguries, but the dream he had had a year ago has cast a large shadow upon his heart. The last time he could recall being so perturbed was right after fleeing Brithon.

Once at the grand courtyard, Idhrenol inadvertently turned his eyes towards the Doors of Felagund. His mind began conjuring the forked tongues of flame that had billowed through them in his dream. He still remembered the searing heat.

“Muindor, are you alright?” asked a voice.

He turned to see his sister. “I am,” he replied as he reached out to embrace her. It was a custom Eliniel has insisted upon him, Amaron and even Hallind whenever they were to leave Nargothrond for a time. Idhrenol still found it hard to believe that it was not too long ago when she had regarded him as a stranger.

“You seem quite distracted, and I am not referring only to the moment earlier. Is something the matter?” asked Eliniel.

“Much is the matter, but it is not something that should worry you.”

“That is what you usually say! You know I will eventually find out.”

“I sometimes count on it,” replied Idhrenol with affection. “Why do you still send me off, little one?”

Eliniel frowned at him. “Do you think my devotion towards my eldest brother to be so feeble?” she answered.

Idhrenol laughed. “Please do not mistake my question as a complaint,” he replied. “Hallind is the one who holds your heart, after all.”

“I fail to see that as a reason,” returned Eliniel with a tone of defiance. 

“Speaking of him,” began Idhrenol, “I assume he does not truly know about our family yet, for I have not noticed any hints of him possessing the knowledge. I doubt he would hide his awareness from me if he has learnt it. So, have you the intention of ever telling him?”

“I find there to be no need,” answered Eliniel after a pause. “My abilities are confined to trivial uses, and they are meant to be kept hidden anyway. Even my closest friends are not privy to our family’s secret because we wish no harm to come to them. Can I not, then, keep that secret from Hallind using the same reason?”

Idhrenol frowned at her response. “He is unlike Hareth or Belron,” he answered, although he also felt that countering Eliniel in this could border on futile. With a gentle sigh, he kissed her hair and said instead, “If you have chosen Hallind, I believe that the matter should not be kept from him for too long. He is someone with the fortitude to understand us, even though I cannot say with conviction that it would lead to acceptance. You have my agreement to tell him the entirety of our tale, so consider my words, little one.”

Eliniel nodded. “Very well, I will,” she promised, before wishing him farewell. “Come back safe, muindor.”

“You may look for me at the beginning of spring. Send my love to Huindîr, and take care of each other,” said Idhrenol as he received his gear from a squire.

She smiled in return. “You can soon tell him so yourself.”

Shortly after Idhrenol has led his stallion to the front of his departing group, a horn rang, signalling the opening of the Doors. A small company of thirty riders thundered into the courtyard with Amaron at the fore. He raised his hand in greeting to Idhrenol.

While the eldest sibling waited to depart, something caught his eye. In the newly arrived company, Idhrenol spotted Agaerwen speaking to the blacksmith who often came to inspect the horses. As the two conversed, the Man emphasized his query by unsheathing his sword from its scabbard.

Idhrenol stared after the weapon, because the blade was black. He found it strangely familiar, yet could not place exactly when or where he has last seen it.

“Lord Sedryn? The way is clear for us,” informed the banner bearer.

“Lead the way,” answered Idhrenol who quickly returned his attention forwards. 

The cool night wind rushed up to meet the small band of marchwardens as they barrelled down the tree-lined road. At the junction where they would turn to ride along the river Narog, Idhrenol suddenly recalled his encounter with a black blade. 

‘Could it be the same one?’ he thought. ‘Or perhaps Lord Gwindor knows the fate of Beleg’s sword?”

Not for the first time, Idhrenol wished he had enquired more about the Man who was now living in Nargothrond.


	48. Chapter 48

There was a sense of hope and trepidation in the hall’s atmosphere. Hallind stood at the eaves watching the numerous councillors take their seats while he waited for Orodreth to arrive. A few of them have begun engaging others in conversation, whereas some chose to meditate on their proposition before the meeting started.

Although this assembly was an annual affair, many saw it as a chance to forward their intentions for the kingdom once winter was over. A majority of the seated councillors have held their positions since the administration of Finrod Felagund, and fortunately for Orodreth, each of them has borne the best interests of Nargothrond at heart. Hallind may not have always agreed with the decisions that sprang from the council, yet he has to admit that they have not betrayed the kingdom’s citizens either. Also, despite the opinion of several that Orodreth only possessed half the measure of Finrod, these sentiments were absent during times that mattered most.

The chief marchwarden heard a faint swish of robes behind him. Turning to see Orodreth, Hallind bowed his head in respect.

“Are the infantry numbers and reports you have provided me still valid?” asked Orodreth.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Let us begin then,” said the Lord of Nargothrond. He entered the hall to take his seat at the apex.

After the eldest councillor opened the assembly, various members took their turns to speak. Questions were asked, and details were clarified over hours. Little has deviated in the past year- Nargothrond’s borders remained secure, their harvest were sufficient, internal strife was minimal, and their relations with Doriath were still cordial.

Then, when the first half of discussions drew to a close, a councillor raised his hand. “Lord Orodreth, have you given any further consideration towards our proposal on civilian travel? It has not been included in our agenda today.”

“Yes, I have,” answered Orodreth. “You have my agreement to allow it.”

The elf blinked in surprise. It was an answer he had not anticipated to hear, since the notion has been rejected for so many years. “My lord,” he sputtered in the end, “Are you certain?”

“I am, Morfinnor. The council has drawn up a list of conditions which are both thorough and reasonable, thus I fail to see any reason for rejecting the motion this time,” answered Orodreth. “However, I believe we are of the same opinion on barring others from coming into Nargothrond?”

A murmur of agreement rose from everyone. Hallind felt that each of them was too taken aback by Orodreth’s change of heart to actually forward further challenges on the matter. Although he knew this approval to be a favourable move for the kingdom, he also suspected the agreement to be Orodreth’s form of compromise.

Based on recent observations, Hallind was quite certain that the Lord of Nargothrond has been brewing plans of his own over the past few months. The specifics of it appeared to still be unbeknownst to all, including the high council, and this concealment perplexed the elf.

“Now, my lords,” began Orodreth when the council has quietened down, “we convene here today to discuss the future of Nargothrond. I have a plan to share, and must admit that the first step has, in fact, been taken. I can understand your eventual disbelief at the strategy I am about to outline because it is not our usual way. Yet, I believe it is time to change our stance, for too long have we looked inwards. The shadows have grown bolder while we were recovering from the losses we had suffered. Now I say unto you, we must move forward.”

Some of the councillors nodded in approval. They have been in favour of this direction for a long time.

“Lord Sedryn is already on his way to ensure that our stronghold west of Tol Sirion remains secure,” continued Orodreth. “Thereafter, we shall flush out any remnant groups of the enemy in the Falas, and eventually in Arvenian while re-establishing Dol-Cuarthol. Too many orcs and wolves have been allowed to prowl freely on our lands since its dissolution. We must reclaim our peace!” A murmur of approval and relief rippled across the lower section of the hall.

Orodreth waited again before speaking. “If those plans are successful, and I am certain they will be, I have also considered our next move,” he said.

Everyone in the room listened with rapt attention. Hallind suddenly felt a twinge of concern.

“Considering the availability of our infantry, we should look to take the lands above Ered Wethrin. Once we have gained a foothold there, we shall invite Doriath and perhaps, Gondolin, to partake in our effort of putting Morgoth under siege in his own desolation.”

Whispers spread amongst those present, until someone from the high council cleared his throat. “Certainly, no one here disagrees with reclaiming peace in our lands, my lord,” he said. “With regards to your other plan, what are your expectations in terms of time?”

“At the latest, as soon as we have secured Dor-Cuarthol.”

The words were digested with stunned silence. Hallind, although as baffled as the rest, found the strategy to be a reasonable, if not eventual one. But it was also highly ambitious, realistically requiring time, numbers and the coordination from kingdoms whose perpetuity was absolute. 

Yet, those reasons were not why Hallind felt apprehensive. Even though he believed in altering plans based on wisdom gained from past mistakes, he also believed in being pragmatic. ‘He is over-reaching when he cannot afford to do so yet,’ thought the chief marchwarden. ‘And if it does not lead to a glorious victory, will the others be willing bear the consequences with him?’

Orodreth was surely not the same captain Hallind had served so many decades ago, although being thrown into a tumultuous reign could not be disregarded as a significant influence. He has remained courageous, a trait shared by everyone in his Noldorin family, but in Hallind’s interpretation, that could not be equated to good foresight and wisdom in matters of rule. The inadequacy of these two traits has often tasked the elder councillors, even until today. This worried Hallind, if not others in the hall as well, because they still remembered that the fall of Minas Tirith in Tol Sirion was not entirely to Morgoth’s credit.

“There are merits to your plan, my lord, yet to succeed in this venture, we would certainly require other kinds of aid and the cooperation from other kingdoms soon, if not at the very beginning,” said someone, breaking the long silence.

“This,” replied Orodreth with emphasis, “is no mere venture. This will be the beginning of a war that the Eldar must win for Beleriand. The other kingdoms will come when they see that our positions are solidified in Nevrast. If they do not, well…the diplomacy shall be your new matter to work upon.”

The conversations rose to a crescendo across the hall. Hallind noted the usual division of opinions, where a minor, but equal, proportion were enthusiastic and in opposition to the plan. As he watched the commotion unfold, he hoped that more than one of the councillors would emerge as a voice of reason. From the look on Orodreth’s face, the sovereign seemed determined to carry out his plans. 

Yet, Hallind also wondered if the Lord of Nargothrond has just grasped and yanked the strings of his court to steer them towards his unsaid aim. This was because Hallind could actually see a compromise that would satisfy each faction. Unfortunately, his rank did not include the privilege to speak of such things in the council.

“My lord, no doubt this direction will benefit the kingdom, yet the time you have given us makes it practically unfeasible,” said one.

“Until when shall we wait? When the dark foe is upon our threshold, baying for our blood?” asked another.

“I am merely suggesting that we do things that are within our immediate reach. We should prepare to have a surplus in our resources, or we may be the first ones to turn back from the siege,” retorted the first.

The uproar of conversations ran its course. Even Orodreth knew better than to deprive his councillors of their speaking time, and was willing to compromise so that he could study his advisors. When most of everyone was satisfied that they have contributed a piece of their mind, reason returned to guide their search for a solution. 

In the end, one of the high council members stood and said, “Lord Orodreth, we believe that your plan is indeed noble, even unto the siege. Yet, we would like to advise caution, in terms of the time allowance and in the execution of each undertaking, for too grand a move could also attract the eyes of Morgoth.”

The Lord of Nargothrond was silent as he pondered the words of his council. “I accept your advice,” said Orodreth at last. “Draw me a reasonable timeline on when we can begin the second stage, and tarry not! The reclamation of Dor-Cuarthol will continue nonetheless. We shall use the experience of Agaerwen to help us achieve this. Thus far, I believe he has not let us down.”

The council responded with their assent and the meeting was shortly adjourned. Hallind could tell that Orodreth was pleased, thus confirming the latter’s ulterior motives. The Lord of Nargothrond has won after all, for the kingdom has accepted the order to change.


	49. Chapter 49

A marchwarden riding ahead of the group raised his hand. All the riders behind him halted under the shade of a poplar wood. Before them was a vast, undulating plain.

Idhrenol dismounted Rovalon and surveyed the vista ahead. He felt that he has been here before a very long time ago, for he has not come this way west of Nargothrond since first arriving in the kingdom. In a way, he never felt the need to, for his parents have always insisted on striking for Doriath if strife sundered them, and he had desperately wanted to believe that they have survived.

“An hour’s rest for the steeds,” he said to his company. “Legrin and the rest should be just ten leagues on the other side of this plain. Riros, be on the watch.”

A young elf set himself up while Idhrenol tended to Rovalon. Their long, roundabout journey from home to Ered Wethrin, and now southwards has been uneventful so far. The first border check indicated that their northern fort was prepared for the coming seasons. 

Idhrenol, like Hallind, has guessed that something significant would be underway once Orodreth’s council have met in their annual assembly. ‘Yet who truly knows what they could end up deciding?’ he mused.

“Lord Sedryn,” called Riros. “Something circles above us.”

“What is it?” asked Idhrenol as he approached the elf. He strained his ears and could hear the sound of powerful wings. It hinted at a large presence looming above them.

“It is an eagle,” answered Riros. 

The captain followed his marchwarden’s gaze and saw the silhouette of an eagle weaving among the clouds high above. Idhrenol could already see great details despite the long distance between him and the majestic bird.

“It must have come from Crissaegrim. I do not think it will cause us harm,” said Idhrenol as he continued to gaze in wonder. He has not encountered any of Thorondor’s folk for some time.

Once it was closer, the eagle let out a short shriek. That sound, and the colouring on its nape kindled recognition in the elf. “Thorongil,” Idhrenol suddenly whispered in surprise.

Apparently satisfied that it has been identified, the eagle turned and glided westward. It took Idhrenol a long moment to interpret the action of his friend before he quickly whistled for his stallion. He turned to his marchwardens, “If I do not return in an hour, continue to Legrin, and await me there,” he said before galloping off.

He rode after Thorongil for a league across the plain before turning slightly south-west. In another six leagues, Idhrenol found himself on an overgrown path flanked by beech trees. He has lost sight of the great eagle, but he could still hear its strong wings overhead.

While he tried to locate Thorongil, the elf heard another shriek. He spurred Rovalon toward its direction, passing by a field that gently sloped into another copse. 

The dense red and gold canopy only allowed him to glimpse the great eagle circling overhead. When he finally looked forward, however, a chill suddenly pierced his heart. All his senses turned towards the path before him, the other sounds and sights fading away.

He has not set foot on this way for centuries. The last time he had passed through here, it had been in utter desperation and with a young Amaron upon his back.

Idhrenol walked ahead on foot, leaving Rovalon to follow behind. The memories returned swiftly, unchecked and in reverse. He saw his younger self running backwards, frequently glancing behind. The crowd of other Brithon residents gradually grew larger as he walked further into the wood. Once the beeches gave way to a glade, Idhrenol heard the memory of his mother’s scream. That was the moment he had begun wondering if Laerlin and Eliniel was lost to him forever.

Then all the images suddenly evaporated, leaving him alone upon the quiet green. In the distance, he saw Thorongil circling widely over the old Brithon town, shrouded by a fog’s breathless grip.

“Ai, Elbereth,” whispered Idhrenol into the silence. Only then did he realise the flood of distress in his heart. With a deep breath, he started forward.

Unthinking, Idhrenol took the path that led him to a side entrance into the town. The gate was now lopsided, rusted, and partially unhinged from the walls where seven steadfast watch towers had once stood upon. All that was left were ruins covered in thick, snaking vines.

He felt a deep sorrow as he walked into Brithon. The buildings were charred and broken. Those that were not had been carnivorised by the surrounding flora, much like the cobbled white roads that wound around the town. The delicate stairways that used to connect homes were twisted, their shapes like macabre claws. However much Idhrenol was used to the sight of death, glimpses of the bones upon the ground sent a chill down his spine. He dared not wonder at their identity.

He finally stopped at what used to be the town square. All that remained of the grand fountain were jagged remains of the marble column. Yet, out of the wreckage rose a large, towering tree. Its bole was grey, and its vast, thick arms were stretched pleadingly towards the sky.

The air was silent, bordering between eerie and peaceful. Idhrenol stared at the ghostly scene before him, until a massive shape flew overhead. Gusts from expansive wings swept around him as the great eagle descended lightly upon the broken marble fragment.

Idhrenol bowed his head. “Thorongil,” he greeted. “It has been a while since Doriath.”

The eagle returned the elf’s gesture. It did not speak, for that was a limited grace bestowed upon a beast in its lifetime. Then, using one of his talons, Thorongil began scrapping the earth into a tiny mound, and traced several purposeful lines around it.

Idhrenol stepped closer to examine the eagle’s crude work. The placement of lines made the etching recognizable. “Is that Nargothrond?” he asked, pointing to the mound.

Thorongil nodded once. It continued to scratch out the mountains of Ered Wethrin and the northern lands. Beyond Angfaulith, it traced a large column and marked it with a rune signifying wolves.

The eagle allowed him to study the rudimentary map before sweeping a wing across it. In that one move, Thorongil had smeared the lines and mounds below Ered Wethrin. Afterwards, it turned a beady eye to Idhrenol.

The elf felt a douse of fear when understanding dawned upon him. “They are coming,” he said softly. “Whither will there be left to go when they march with such want of destruction across Beleriand?”

Thorongil paused, before tracing his talon southwards from Nargothrond. It waited. Idhrenol felt defeat searing him. The last scene of his nightmare passed his eyes again.

“Would anyone save us?” he asked. He heard his voice tremble like a child’s. The eagle gave no indication for a long while. Then it nodded curtly.

Idhrenol breathed in and out to compose himself. Stepping back, he bowed his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Thorongil,” he said, “for being our eyes and ears. May the winds of Súlimo bear you ever higher, and I hope we meet again.”

The eagle gave the elf a lingering look before brushing the tip of its wing against his cheek. Then, it soared into the sky with a final scream as sunlight pierced through the fog. Idhrenol followed Thorongil’s flight until it disappeared from his sight.

In his solitude amidst the abandoned town, he allowed his old friend’s warning to sink in. He fought the despair with new-found certainty. Although the certainty did not comfort him, at least he knew what could and needed to be done.

“Rovalon,” called Idhrenol, as he cast one last glance at the place he had once called home.


End file.
